Sonic Wings Crusade
by Tenukii
Summary: When Fata Morgana reappears, Lord River-N-White reconvenes Project Blue to deal with the threat. Features many, many characters and bosses! Pairings: Hien x Mao Mao, Blaster Keaton x Steve, Volk x Hawk Keaton.
1. Chapter 1

Not much scared Hawk "Zapper" Keaton. At nineteen, he had done things most men never would: learned to fly an F-14B, became an expert in dogfighting in the same. . . saved the world from evil alien forces. (Well, he had _helped_ save the world, anyway.) And he had done it all without much fear, only an adrenaline-laden nervousness and a rush of excitement.

The sound of the telephone ringing in the middle of the night, however, jolted him awake, left his heart racing and his skin prickling with cold sweat. The memories tangled up in telephone wires scared him more than any enemy- even the giant eyeball Lar, even the monstrous skull Pandora- ever could.

Hawk sat upright in bed, gripping handfuls of his comforter against his bare chest as he waited. The phone only rang once, which he assumed meant his older brother Blaster had answered it. It had been Blaster who answered it that other time too, ten years ago, and Blaster who came to Hawk's room and told him in a shaking, tear-filled voice that their parents were dead. That had been in September and now it was late November, but otherwise, it could have been the same night, Hawk nine years old again in knit airplane-print pajamas, already a bit of a trouble-maker, already determined to become a pilot.

Except now, Blaster himself was all Hawk had to lose, so as he waited, he tried to tell himself that the telephone's news couldn't be so bad. Blaster was safe at home tonight, not flying as their parents had been, not anywhere that he could lose control of his airplane and plummet into an unforgiving highway out in the middle of nowhere.

And still, Hawk's whole body relaxed in relief when he heard his brother's footsteps in the hall outside his bedroom door.

"C'min," Hawk called before Blaster even knocked. The door opened, and Hawk saw his brother's head with its spiky, raked back haircut silhouetted in the light from the hall. "What's wrong?" Hawk asked.

"Get up and get dressed," Blaster told him. His usually relaxed, often playful voice was tense. "It's Fata Morgana. Again."

* * *

The last of Hawk's fear disappeared, replaced with excitement, as he pulled on his jeans and a sweater. Another alien attack was something he could handle; it was a situation where, strangely enough, Hawk had some control.

"It was Lord River-N-White on the phone," Blaster told him as they shoved hastily-packed duffel bags into what Blaster jokingly called the Keaton-mobile: a 1970 Plymouth Barracuda Blaster had painted a sparkling red. "He said someone would meet us at the airport."

"What happened?" Hawk asked after he had climbed into the passenger seat and automatically fastened his seat belt- in the years Blaster had raised him, his older brother had trained him pretty well.

"He wouldn't say." Blaster clenched his teeth as he drove, making his usually soft jaw line seem stronger. "Just that Fata Morgana had made contact again and that River is reconvening Project Blue."

"All of us?"

Blaster shrugged. "Didn't say." He cast a sideways grin at his brother, even as he raked a nervous hand through his own brown hair. "Maybe he figured you six weren't enough last time- he had to call back in the big guns like me."

"You wish. We did just fine without you," Hawk retorted even as he gave Blaster a matching grin. They could almost have been twins, despite their nine years difference of age: Hawk's hair was a little lighter and he was (to his delight) a little more muscular, but they had the same facial structure, the same mannerisms, the same vivid blue eyes. _Even now_, Hawk thought, _even if that's not his real body. . . ._

They lived within thirty miles of a military air field in an otherwise mostly-rural area in the mid-western United States. Their parents, both retired Air Force, had chosen the area deliberately: plenty of room to fly. After the crash, Blaster had gained custody of Hawk, and they'd stayed in the house simply because they couldn't afford to move. They'd been there ever since save for the year Blaster had fought in the Iraq War. Hawk had lived with an aunt for what he often declared was the worst year of his life (only because life with the well-meaning aunt was a far cry from the bachelor lifestyle he already enjoyed- at the ripe old age of thirteen- with his brother).

The current pattern of their life had begun when Blaster was discharged from the Air Force by special request of a mysterious old English gentleman named Lord River-N-White. Blaster was told that his distinguished service and skillful piloting had qualified him for Project Blue, the United Nations' secret peacekeeping force. Just a year later, Blaster, River, and Blue's six other pilots had had their first mission: subdue a terrorist organization named Fata Morgana.

Even in a world-threatening emergency like the reappearance of Fata Morgana, the ever-conscientious Blaster refused to drive above the speed limit; it took them a full half hour to reach the base. Things moved quickly from there. Project Blue's top-level clearance in all UN countries' militaries saw to it that they were ushered in swiftly and directed to a small airfield buried at the back of the base. A little C-12 Huron was already waiting for them.

As Blaster mounted the steps into the prop plane first, Hawk heard a husky female voice from inside chiding him, "You're too slow, Keaton. I've been waiting five minutes!"

"Sorry, Glenda," Blaster replied amiably. Hawk followed him into the plane, grinning when he saw Glenda.

"Hey, kiddo," she said to Hawk, smiling back. Hawk had flown with her on his last Project Blue mission; his slight crush on her then was the only reason she got away with the diminutive nickname. Normally Hawk- not nearly as big a flirt as Blaster- wasn't fazed by even the prettiest of girls, but Glenda was different. Her dark brown eyes, caramel skin, and, well, shapely body all gave her an exotic look- and her age, a good thirteen years Hawk's senior, ensured that she never thought of him as more than a cute kid.

_Oh well,_ Hawk thought as he and Blaster took two seats at the front of the empty passenger plane. _At least I get to look._

"Where are we going?" Blaster called to Glenda in the cockpit once she had the Huron in the air.

"Lord River-N-White ordered us to convene on the _Goliath_," Glenda shouted back. "He's not there yet himself, but he told me to pick you two up on my way."

"You know who else is coming?" Hawk asked. While he was glad Glenda herself would be involved, there were a couple other Blue members he wanted to see again- and some he emphatically did _not_.

"Not a clue. I don't think he told me much more than he told you." She paused, and when she went on, Hawk could hear a frown in her voice even through her yelling. "It's not like him to be so secretive. I dunno if he was afraid of the message being intercepted or what."

"So I guess you don't know what Fata Morgana's threat is this time, either," yelled Blaster. "Or which one of them is behind it."

"Nope."

"I don't know how it could be _any_ of them," Hawk grumbled to Blaster. "We've defeated each of them, like, a million times."

"More like four," Blaster said wryly. "But you have a point." He sighed, leaning back as much as he could in his narrow seat. "I'm beginning to think they aren't even. . . mortal."

"Lar might be some kind of robot," Hawk mused. "When I fought it in Antarctica, the cold certainly didn't seem to bother it."

"And I fought Pandora in space," reminded Blaster. "If it can survive in a vacuum, it can't be living. . . not the way we know it, anyway."

"I hope it _is_ Pandora." Hawk glared down at his feet darkly. "I wanted a shot at it last time, but Volk had to be the hero and go after it on the moon." Thinking about Pandora had always angered Hawk, but thinking about Volk, another member of Project Blue, downright pissed him off. "He was always ranting about getting revenge against Fata Morgana for what they did to him- but _I_ was the one with a reason for revenge."

The good-natured Blaster tried to placate his brother, as usual. "Well, none of us knows what they really did to Volk. He lost an eye and a foot at least, maybe a lung or something judging from that tube in his chest, and-"

"So what?" Hawk interrupted snappishly. "Yeah, so he got a few scars and some mechanical parts. Pandora nearly _killed_ you!" He turned to look up at Blaster, trying to tamp down the anguish he still felt when he remembered the _other_ phone call in his life, the one where Lord River-N-White told him that his brother had been killed by Pandora. River had been wrong, thank God, but the memory still ached. "Volk lost an eye and a foot. You lost everything but your head!"

Blaster winced a little but managed a weak smile. "Well, Dr. Kowful replaced my body well enough- even I can't tell the difference most of the time. Volk looks a lot worse than I do, so you shouldn't be so hard on him."

"What is this, honor among cyborgs?" Hawk grumbled. "Volk's a bastard. You're not. And _I_ should get to kill Pandora for what it did to you."

Blaster apparently gave up on trying to change Hawk's mind; instead, he changed the subject. "Speaking of replacement bodies, I guess Kowful'll give me back my mecha body to fight in. I sorta miss it, having all those built-in weapons." Hawk had to admit, Blaster's robot body, onto which his human head could be attached, _was_ pretty cool.

Hawk looked out the window as they flew, watching the splatters of cities' lights passing below them. He himself wasn't entirely comfortable flying at night- not that he'd admit it- but he enjoyed being a passenger, where all he had to do was look down at the sleeping cities. After a while, though, he dozed off, and by the time he awoke some hours later, the lights were gone and there was only the Atlantic Ocean beneath them, a shifting expanse of grey in the pre-dawn. Across the aisle from him, Blaster was snoring, his head tilted back against his seat.

The sun had only begun to rise when Glenda docked with the _Goliath_, the flying command center and aircraft carrier of Project Blue. Glenda guided the Huron neatly into one of _Goliath_'s two arms; the jolt of the landing was enough to wake Blaster, who looked around with a yawn.

"So this is the mother ship," he commented as they stood, stretching as best they could in the cramped space.

"Yeah, I forgot we didn't have it the last time you were around," Glenda said, emerging from the cockpit. "Being mobile makes it a lot easier to avoid Fata Morgana and keep you guys safe, so you'll be bunking here when you're not on mission." She led them down the Huron's narrow steps then strode purposefully through the hangar towards the body of the ship, leaving the Keatons to hurry after with their bags.

The _Goliath_ was running on a minimal crew; there was only one guard at the door between the hangar and the rest of the craft. _River must not be too worried about Morgana finding us yet,_ Hawk thought as they followed Glenda through a labyrinthine hallway towards the airship's bridge. There they found a short, boxy robot seated at the command center, a set of headphones incongruously plopped over his rectangular head to cover two microphones on either side.

"I'm here, Tee-Bee," Glenda announced, going to the robot and giving him a playful shove. "Vamoose."

"Okay, okay." The robot, confirmation name TB A-10, hoisted his heavy body out of the chair and relinquished the headphones to Glenda, who settled in comfortably.

"_You're_ gonna pilot this thing?" Hawk gaped. "What about Ellen?"

Glenda shrugged. "Dunno. River's orders were for me to man the controls like I used to."

"Oh." Hawk was disappointed; that meant that Glenda wouldn't be flying missions with them after all if she had to take over for Ellen, the young Englishwoman who had flown the _Goliath_ and relayed radio commands to the pilots on their last mission.

"And I've been ordered to show you two to your cabins," TB grumbled in a distinctly electronic voice. The usually grumpy robot wasn't one of Hawk's favorite Project Blue members, but Hawk supposed he would be surly too if he had gotten shafted the way TB had: the robot was an excellent pilot, but more often than not, he had to assist his creator Dr. Kowful instead of flying missions.

"See you, boys," Glenda waved. "We're supposed to meet in the command center for a briefing at thirteen hundred hours, so don't sleep too late!"

"Cabins, plural?" Blaster asked TB as they followed him back through the hallways, still lugging their duffel bags. "We don't have to share?"

"You two aren't sharing with _each other_." TB bounced and jolted as his treads rolled over the seams in the flooring. "You'll be rooming with your mission partners."

That could be either good or bad, Hawk decided. "Who're our partners?"

"How am I supposed to know?" snapped the robot, turning his head to glare back at Hawk with large, round blue eyes. "Lord River-N-White will tell you at the briefing."

"Geez, sorry," muttered Hawk. They reached his cabin first, so he stayed behind while TB and Blaster went on. Blaster gave him a slightly worried look as they left, concerned as always for his little brother's well-being.

_He doesn't have to worry about __**me**__,_ Hawk thought with bravado as he shut the door to his cabin and tossed his bag on one of the twin beds inside. _Last time, I proved that I could take care of myself._ Still, he mused while he unzipped his bag and tried to decide if putting away his clothes was really worth it, it would be nice to be fighting alongside Blaster, even if they weren't mission partners. Hawk had only been involved in two defenses against Fata Morgana: the most recent two years ago, and the very first when he was just fifteen. That had been when Blaster was presumed dead; Hawk had taken over his missions, something he got away with only by lying about his age. Despite his success, he hadn't been formally allowed into Project Blue until he turned seventeen.

_And I showed them just how good I am too!_ Giving up on the idea of unpacking, Hawk transferred his bag to the floor instead and flopped down on the bed, lying on his back to stare up at the grey metal of the ceiling above him. _Fata Morgana won't stand a chance with me __**and**__ Blaster against them!_ He yawned, letting his eyes fall shut. _And this time, I'll be the one to destroy Pandora, for good._


	2. Chapter 2

Mao Mao liked performing; she really did. Who _wouldn't_ enjoy stepping on stage to a cacophony of fans' cheers? Not to mention the beautiful costumes, the money, and the luxury of being one of Japan's most popular idol singers?

_Except sooner or later, they'll move on,_ she thought as she waited backstage, squirming in the uncomfortable layers that made up her costume. _I'm almost twenty-three- that's old by their standards._ Of course, even if she lost her contract that very night, she'd have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life without lifting another finger. . . but that wasn't the point.

The point was that she stood there like this, night after night, silent and still while the world spun around her, calling for her to do useless things like sing and dance and sell millions of bottles of Ramune just by appearing in a single magazine ad.

_And none of those people knows me, not at all. I don't want to just be Mao Mao the idol. . . I want to be Mao Mao the Time Stopper, Mao Mao who saves the world!_ But that identity wasn't her secret to tell. For her fans, her manager, and most of the world she was doomed to be entertaining but of no real account whatsoever.

But Mao Mao didn't have time to think about that, not now: her manager, anxious as always, was signaling frantically for her to go on stage. She nodded, failing to mask a smile at his panic. He meant well anyway, even if he was awfully impatient with her.

Mao Mao walked out from the wings, into the light and heat of the stage where the noise of the crowd suddenly rose into a roar at the sight of her. The venue was sold out, and their sound was deafening, far louder than she could imagine her own voice being, even amplified by her microphone. As she neared center stage, she looked up at one of the huge monitors that captured her image. She saw herself there, lit by pink lights, and wondered at how different she looked as this one of a trio of Mao Maos: the _idoru_ as opposed to the time-stopping pilot or the ordinary girl who still slept with a plush bunny and a picture of her crush under her pillow.

Even her face seemed unfamiliar, the stage makeup obscuring the tone of her skin and making her dark brown eyes seem larger than they really were. Her hair, the same shade of brown, was swept up into uneven ponytails, and her costume, a conglomeration of tightness and ruffles, was hot pink and black- definitely not her colors. Most telling of all, this alter-ego of the usually happy Mao Mao wasn't even smiling.

_That's not even me up there anymore, _ she thought as she reached the middle of the stage. _And I'm tired of it. After tonight, something's going to change._ She didn't know what, exactly, she could do there in the middle of a tour, but simply making a decision helped. The image on the monitor broke into a brilliant smile just as it turned to face the crowd of fans. The music, at least, felt like _her_ as she began to sing.

Even there on stage, when she sang from her heart she felt like as she did when she was flying: like the second in the trio of Mao Maos, the unexpected pilot with the uncanny ability to freeze time. It was the life she missed, fighting Fata Morgana over and over- four times now- and saving the world with her friends at her side. And she missed those friends too. . . including the man whose photo she kept, even though she had never seen any part of him except his dark eyes.

Mao Mao's malaise lifted as she sang, knowing that she was expressing herself- her _real_ self- even if no one else understood. _I just wish __**he**__ could hear me,_ she thought. _I wish he knew._

As Mao Mao sang the last lines, she stared out into the stupid pink lights that blinded her view of the audience and made sweat break out on her forehead despite the pancake makeup. The audience's voices grew into a clamor as hers ceased. And then. . . _it_ happened, her something, her thing that was going to change- much sooner than Mao Mao had expected. As the crowd's roar rose, the lights fell in a drop cloth of darkness over the venue. The audience screamed, they all screamed, Mao Mao's shrill voice among them. But then she fell silent, a little excited after the initial shock.

_Well, this is different,_ she thought. The other screams too trailed off after a moment, the audience perhaps thinking the sudden darkness was part of the show.

Mao Mao heard a rush of bodies on the stage, her manager probably and the stage hands trying to find her. Again she felt like the still center of a spinning world, as if time had stopped for her instead of for everyone else.

But time moved again as someone brushed against her, a fleeting touch to her shoulder. Mao Mao started then broke into another full shriek as she felt her body swept suddenly upward, imprisoned by a strong arm wrapped firmly around her waist.

_I'm being abducted!_ she realized; the thought was enough to silence her. _How exciting!_

"Be quiet!" a voice hissed as Mao Mao again felt solidity beneath her feet. _We must be in the rafters above the stage,_ she realized.

"I _am_ being quiet!" she whispered back in a huff.

"Then it's the first time!" The snarled reply was insulting but so familiar. Mao Mao drew in her breath sharply now that she could clearly hear the voice: low, curt, infinitely frustrated with her.

"Hien!" she breathed- then screeched again as her captor scooped her up and began to run through the rafters.

"I _said_ to be quiet!"

They emerged on the roof of the venue, a large theater from which Mao Mao had a sweeping view of Kyoto whose lights drowned out the black of the night sky into a deep grey. In the midst of that view, right in the middle of the roof, was a black Bell JetRanger helicopter. On its side was painted the kanji 忍: the mark of a ninja. If the voice had not told her the identity of her abductor, that kanji would have.

As soon as she was placed back on her own feet, Mao Mao spun on her high heels to face the man behind her. The only parts of him visible were two brown eyes, as dark as hers but narrower and with an X-shaped scar between them. The rest of his body was concealed in the black of a ninja's outfit.

"Hien!" Mao Mao said again, stamping her foot in frustration even as her heart clenched at the sight of him. "You- you ruined my concert!"

"Are you going to get in the helicopter, or will I have to carry you?" was Hien's reply.

"What? Why-" She yelped and took a step back as he made a grab for her. "Okay, okay, I'm going!" _No matter how many missions I fly with him, I'll never understand him,_ she lamented as she climbed into the JetRanger's front passenger seat. Hien moved into the pilot's seat, quick as a shadow, and expertly lifted the chopper into the air.

"Fata Morgana is back," Hien said tersely as he flew them over the city. "River tried to contact you, but he couldn't get through- so he told me to pick you up on my way to the _Goliath_."

"I've been here almost all day, getting ready for the concert!" Mao Mao defended herself.

"You know you're never supposed to be out of contact."

"But it's been two _years_!" she argued, thinking at the same time, _Two years since Morgana last struck. . . and two years since I've seen you._

"That's no excuse."

Mao Mao slumped back in her seat, folding her arms indignantly. It was just like Hien to start scolding her the moment they reunited. _But after flying in four wars with him as my partner, I should know that he's never going to change._

"Aren't you at least going to let me pick up some clothes?" she grumbled as the lights of the city disappeared behind them. "I can't fight in this!"

"Look in the back," Hien replied. Mao Mao turned to peer into the other passenger seats behind them, where she found a blue duffel bag. When she dragged it into her lap and unzipped it, she found her own fighting uniform and pajamas, hair bows and toothbrush. . . and two large, shiny red eyes peering up at her.

_He even brought Rabio_, Mao Mao thought in amazement as she stroked one of her plush rabbit's velvety red ears.

"How did you know where I was staying? And how did you get into a five-star hotel room to-"

"I am a ninja- so I did it the same way I got you off of that stage and into this helicopter. And I did not do so to listen to you yammer!" Mao Mao glared at him but fell into a sulky silence. Appeased, Hien went on in a more neutral tone, "There's a private airfield nearby; we'll transfer to a small jet there. The _Goliath_ is currently over the Atlantic, so it's not practical to stay in the helicopter."

Mao Mao looked down into her bag; Rabio looked back up at her with an innocuous, buck-toothed white face.

"What has Fata Morgana done this time?" she asked in a suppressed voice, hoping she didn't sound as excited as she felt.

"I don't know. River wouldn't tell me anything except that we were to report to the _Goliath_." Hien cut his dark eyes at her once. "You know. . . pink isn't your color. You look much better in your uniform."

Mao Mao wasn't sure if that were meant to be an insult or a compliment, so she only replied, "I know," before turning to gaze out the window. _I should feel guilty, being so happy when the world is in danger,_ she thought self-accusingly. _But this is just what I was wishing for- to do something important, to save the world again! And to do it at his side. . . ._

She zipped up her duffel bag and dropped it to the floor between her feet. _I just hope he didn't look under my pillow when he packed my stuff. _


	3. Chapter 3

Hawk woke up to the sound of Blaster pounding on the door to his cabin.

"Hawk? Come _on_- we'll miss the briefing," his brother yelled through the metal door.

Hawk got up, wobbling a little at the side of his bed as he rubbed his eyes. _So much for taking care of myself,_ he thought, his face flushing. _I can't even get up on time without my brother's help._ He raked his fingers through his spiky hair a couple times in an attempt to hide that he had been napping, then Hawk went to the door.

"Yeah, I'm ready," he muttered.

"I should've made you bring an alarm clock," Blaster chuckled, in a good mood despite Hawk's tardiness. He seemed more excited about the whole situation than before, which was heartening to Hawk; he'd been afraid that Blaster was losing his sense of adventure.

By the time they entered the command center, the biggest room on the _Goliath_, the large table at its center was nearly filled. Hawk looked down in embarrassment and took one of the nearest empty chairs, feeling as if everyone knew it was his fault they were late. Only when Blaster had sat down beside him did Hawk look around.

Besides Glenda and Tee-Bee, three other people sat at the front of the table: commander Lord River-N-White, his granddaughter Kotomi, and Dr. Kowful, Project Blue's resident robotics expert. Hien and Mao Mao, Blue's pilots from Japan, were on the Keatons' side of the table; across from them sat the Russian twins Chaika and Pooshika, both of whom were cute blondes. A tank of water had been placed next to Chaika, and a dolphin wearing a pilot's cap poked his head over the side. That was Whity, who to all appearances was a talking dolphin pilot. (Hawk still wondered if Whity weren't really some kind of robot; otherwise, he was just too surreal.) There were now only two empty seats left: one beside Blaster and one across from it, next to Pooshika.

Lord River-N-White cleared his throat. He was dressed impeccably as always in a tan woolen suit, complete with top hat and monocle. He had to be in his seventies, as his carefully-groomed, soap-white beard testified, but despite his age- and the fact that he always reminded Hawk of Mr. Peanut- River was beyond competent. He could even hold his own in air battle.

"I don't want to brief you on Fata Morgana's activities until everyone has arrived," River said, frowning at the two empty seats, "so I'll begin by assigning your duties. You may have noticed that we're running on an extremely small staff; I believe you will understand why when we begin discussing the nature of Pandora's threats."

_So it __**is**__ Pandora!_ Hawk thought, feeling a rush of hatred-fueled adrenaline.

"Therefore," River continued, "we're all going to have to be especially diligent and to. . . do for ourselves and each other wherever possible. Dr. Kowful and Tee-Bee will handle technical and medical problems." He gestured a gloved hand toward the doctor, a huge man who was only in his mid thirties but appeared older due to his long brown mustache and heavy eyebrows. Kowful's strong identification with his Viking heritage kept him from trimming either.

"You mean _Kowful's_ gonna fix us up if we get hurt?" squeaked Whity indignantly. "_That_'ll be a trip."

"Quiet, sea mammal!" Kowful snapped in his deep Swedish accent.

"We do have two other medical staffers," Tee-Bee interrupted in a flat mechanical voice, "and one other tech, so both you mammals and we robots will have our choice of care." From the robot's tone, Hawk got the feeling that Tee-Bee wasn't too happy with the situation either, even though Kowful had been the one to create him, about four years ago.

River-N-White cleared his throat once more and looked sternly at Whity as if daring the dolphin to interrupt again. "Glenda will be in charge of radioing your orders to you. She will also pilot _Goliath_ should we need to move her to another location. If anything should happen to me, Glenda will serve as your commander." Glenda's dark eyes widened; apparently this was news to her as much as to the other Blue members.

River said nothing about Kotomi, who sat next to him with her blue eyes fixed on the table before her. Hawk knew her only by sight and reputation: she was only a little older than he, and like her grandfather, she was an excellent pilot. She was pretty enough, but her appearance was fairly unremarkable except for the white cap she perpetually wore over her short brown hair: two ribbons trailed from it that looked for all the world like a pair of rabbit ears.

"Now, the rest of you will be serving as pilots of course," River went on, folding his gloved hands on the table before him. "You will be flying in teams chosen to best complement your particular skills and abilities. Mao Mao and Hien, you will again fly as partners. In the past you've proven that you work well together combining Mao Mao's time-stopping E-Wave with aggressive attacks. You'll most often be assigned to offensive missions." Hien nodded respectfully, his dark eyes emotionless as they nearly always were, but Mao Mao beamed.

_Gosh, she's cute_, Hawk thought, a little envious of Hien. Still, Mao Mao was a bit intimidating as well: not only was she older than Hawk, she was also rich, famous, and a better pilot that he would probably ever be.  
River turned from the Japanese pilots to the other side of the table. "Chaika and Pooshika, you've requested that you again be allowed to fly the same plane together. I agree that you work best together; therefore, you'll both fly the IL-102 as before. You will be teamed with Whity."

"Woo hoo!" chirped the dolphin, giving Chaika a nudge with his nose. Her cheeks flushed, the blush accentuated by the glasses that covered her blue eyes.

"Stop it, you're getting my shoulder wet," she mumbled, leaning closer to Pooshika to avoid Whity's beak.

"Since all of you have wide-range, sweeping attacks, you will be deployed to cover areas threatened by multiple enemies," continued River, now ignoring the exuberant Whity with dignity. Then he turned to the Keatons. "As for you two, I had hoped your partners would have arrived by-"

"_Desolée!_" A very loud, very French voice interrupted the commander. "I am so sorry to be late!" Hawk winced, startled, and turned to look behind him at the command center's entrance. The blond who stood there, posed in an explosion of a blue and white costume, might have been a woman except for his flat chest and classically masculine nose. Like Kotomi, he was unknown to Hawk personally, but Blaster had talked often enough about their mission together.

"Welcome, Steve," River said drily. "So glad you could join us."

"Your call came _right_ in the middle of a performance!" Steve explained dramatically as he tossed his cape over his shoulder and threw himself into the empty chair beside Blaster. "I had to finish the show before I could set out."

"But I left _my_ concert to come!" Mao Mao retorted indignantly. "That's not fair!"

"Only because I removed you," Hien muttered.

"This wasn't just a concert, _ma cherie_," Steve assured Mao Mao, somewhat patronizingly. "It was the grandest musical performance of the decade! And our last night in Paris too, so-"

"That's enough, Steve," River said sternly. The Frenchman's high cheekbones flushed and he cast a glare from wide, sparkling green eyes at their commander- but he did fall silent. _Thank God,_ Hawk thought, already disliking him intensely.

"We were discussing your partner assignments," continued River. "Steve, you will be teamed with-" He broke off and looked back at the doorway with irritation that he quickly masked. ". . . oh. Welcome, Volk."

_Oh no._ Hawk cringed and slumped down farther in his seat. _Not him. . . ._ He had known, really, that Volk would be included on the team; the Russian cyborg by far held the record for most damage done against Fata Morgana. Still, that hadn't stopped Hawk from hoping that Volk would have refused to answer Lord River-N-White's call.

But no, he _had_ answered. He was just late.

Wordlessly, the Russian stalked into the room and took the last empty seat, beside Pooshika. He too wore a cloak, but it was far different from Steve's showy white cape. Volk's was heavy and colored a deep grey, nearly black; it covered almost all of his body except for his single boot and his mechanical foot. Volk's head was equally covered with a lighter grey _ushanka_ so that only his face was visible, framed by shaggy straw-like hair and some kind of flexible pipe that both emerged from and disappeared into the collar of his cloak. His single eye was as grey as his hat and much, much colder; the right eye socket was covered with some sort of electronic eye patch rigged, like the rest of his mechanical parts, by Kowful. Volk's grey eye flicked over each of their faces in turn, emotionless. He looked at Hawk neither longer nor harder than at anyone else, which only irritated the boy further.

"Ah, good, now we're all present," River muttered, though without too much accusation in his voice. He didn't seem to want to upset Volk any more than the rest of them did; in fact, except for Hawk, the only one even looking at the Russian was Pooshika, who gazed up at Volk with clear admiration. River continued, "Now for the rest of your assignments. Hawk, even though you've only flown with us twice- and even though you only had permission _once," _he added sternly, though with a slight smile, "you've proved that you possess quite an affinity for dogfighting. That makes three of you skillful in engaging the enemy one-on-one: Hawk, Steve, and Volk. Of the two remaining teams, one is designed to be more aggressive in order to tackle some of Fata Morgana's strongest bosses; the other is more balanced."

_Maybe he __**will**__ pair me with Blaster after all_, Hawk thought hopefully. As awesome as it would be to take on Fata Morgana's best, even Hawk had to admit that he wasn't really ready for that kind of combat. _He must have put me on the balanced team. . . ._

"Therefore," River went on, "Hawk, you'll be working with Volk."

"No _way_!" Hawk wailed before he could stop himself. At the same moment, Volk half-stood, slamming his hands down on the table and glaring at River.

"I refuse!"

Hawk forgot all about his own dismay in fury at Volk's as he glared at the cyborg. _The bastard- like I'm not good enough for him!_

"_Silence!_" River roared, looking remarkably like a monocled lion. He apparently took great offense to having his orders questioned; even Volk couldn't get away with it. "_Yes_ way, and you can _not_ refuse. If either of you disagree with the assignment, you are free to leave- but you will _not_ work with Project Blue unless you work together."

Hawk slumped back in his seat in sullen silence. He half expected Volk to walk out, but the Russian too sat once more; however, the look on his scarred, unshaven face was far from pleased. The rest of the pilots, even Pooshika, looked everywhere but at them.

"There is a reason for this assignment," River said in a more moderated tone. "As I said, Hawk, you are an excellent dogfighter. Your fighting style is quite aggressive but a bit. . . overly enthusiastic. Volk's style is equally aggressive but more controlled; I believe you'll be able to learn much from him."

Hawk glanced at Volk in amazement. _He fights like me. . .? _Volk, however, refused to look at him, and Hawk turned his eyes down to the table top instead as he muttered, "Yes sir."

"Volk?" River prompted. "Are you willing to accept Hawk as your partner?" Hawk seethed inside at the question. _Why should __**Volk**__ have the right to judge whether I'm good enough or not?_

Volk was silent for an embarrassingly long time before he finally growled, "Yes sir," in his heavily-accented voice.

"Good." River practically sighed in relief as he turned to Blaster and Steve. "Now, of course this leaves you two as partners; your focus will be missions in which there is a powerful enemy protected by wingmen. Keaton, you will serve as cover for Steve while he engages the boss."

"Yes _sir_!" Steve beamed first at River, then at Blaster. Blaster gave him a slightly nervous grin in return.

"Yes sir."

_This is __**so**__ not fair,_ Hawk sulked. _Blaster likes __**his**__ partner- in fact, __**everyone**__ likes their partners except for me! Why couldn't he have put Volk with Pooshika anyway? __**She's**__ the one making eyes at him!_

"Now," River went on, "as to the nature of Fata Morgana's threats. . . ." He looked down at his hands briefly as if gathering his thoughts, then he raised his shaggy head again. "They have not struck yet, but an attack seems imminent. I received a direct communication from Pandora at our base in England. The nature of that communication. . . ." River trailed off again, making Hawk frown. Normally, the commander wasn't so reticent.

"Pandora stated that Fata Morgana is prepared to strike several unnamed major cities, as they have done so many times in the past. The difference from previous attacks is that she is offering us a. . . deal."

Whity snorted. "A deal? From the great bone-head? Yeah, right."

River gave the dolphin a wry half-smile. "That's about the size of it. She said that she will not attack the cities if we negotiate with them to allow Fata Morgana's forces to take over command of those cities peaceably. You can imagine what my response was to _that _request."

"But why does she want to _take over_ the world?" Blaster asked suddenly. Hawk marveled at his calmness in discussing the alien monster who had nearly killed him. "I thought she was only interested in destroying it."

River shrugged. "She didn't go so far as to enlighten me on that point; she disconnected the communication as soon as I refused her offer. Most of Fata Morgana's motives _are_ beyond our understanding, I'm afraid." He looked at Volk as he spoke, but the Russian remained silent, staring back at their commander with his single grey eye.

**_He_**_ would know if any of us did,_ Hawk thought with a scowl. _But damned if he'll tell us. He never did care about strategy, just blowing stuff up. . . ._

"My plan is to dispatch some of you to the cities where Pandora is most likely to strike; you'll receive your mission assignments tomorrow morning along with dossiers on the members of Fata Morgana we believe to be involved. Because we _don't_ know where Morgana intends to strike, you must also be ready to alter your plans at a moment's notice. That is also the reason that we are making _Goliath_ our base of operations; the mobile command center and extremely small crew mean we will be able to transfer to a different location almost immediately." River pulled off his monocle with one hand and produced a handkerchief from his breast pocket with the other, proceeding to polish the eyepiece as he talked. "Now. Do all of you accept this mission? If you wish to withdraw, now is the time to do so."

No one spoke or moved. "Excellent," said River. "You'll have the rest of the day to rest and get your bearings. You'll be reporting to the mess hall for meals- dinner at eighteen hundred hours tonight and breakfast at oh-eight hundred hours tomorrow." River looked around at them, hazel eyes falling on each of them in turn, before he concluded, "Dismissed."

* * *

After the briefing, Kotomi followed Lord River-N-White and Glenda back to the bridge. Neither of them spoke to her or even seemed to notice her until she said, "Grandfather!" impatiently.

"Yes, Kotomi?"

"Why can't I fly on any missions this time?" she demanded. "It's embarrassing- all the pilots there getting assignments except me! They were probably all wondering what the useless bunny girl was doing there!"

"We've discussed this," River sighed tiredly. "It's too dangerous. You'll be safer here- and besides, Glenda needs your help."

"But you let me fly last time!" protested Kotomi. Not that she minded helping Glenda- in fact, quite the opposite. It was just the principle of the thing. "And I'm as good a pilot as any of them!" She glared at Glenda when she caught the older woman smirking as she sat down at the _Goliath_'s control station. Glenda just grinned more when she noticed Kotomi glowering at her.

"You're being as difficult as Volk," River muttered as he inspected some of the station's monitors. "Why is everyone protesting my orders today?"

Kotomi knew better than to answer one of her grandfather's rhetorical questions. Instead, she demanded, "And what about Komomo? Where is she?"

"Your sister is safe," River said, his voice- still strong despite his age- nearly angry. "It isn't proper for a princess to live on a battle station." _What about a princess's __**sister**__, then?_ Kotomi wondered, but her grandfather, frowning sternly, turned to face her before she could ask. "You are to shadow Glenda as I told you. Learn all you can about operating _Goliath_ and the radio system. Should Glenda assume my duties, you will need to take over for her."

Kotomi glowered down at her feet, refusing to answer. _I can be as stubborn as he can! We're __**both**__ still Kitashirakawas, even if he insists on using that English name. . . ._ She heard her grandfather sigh as he turned away; however, he let his hand fall on her shoulder a moment before he silently left the room. _He __**does**__ love me,_ she thought a bit guiltily. _But he's just not acting like himself!_

Kotomi slouched down in the chair next to Glenda, muttering, "He's being so unreasonable." She knew she probably shouldn't complain to Glenda, who was one of River's favorites, but Kotomi couldn't hold her frustration in.

"He's just protecting his pretty little bunny," Glenda replied in her low, musical voice. Kotomi's cheeks flushed indignantly to hear Glenda call her by the literal meaning of "Kotomi." _How does __**she**__ know what my name means? Did he tell her?_

"But he let me fly before, when Fata Morgana helped the Hildroid kidnap my sister," Kotomi argued aloud. "This time it's just Fata Morgana acting alone, so it shouldn't even be as dangerous as before. Besides, it's not like him to refuse to even give me an explanation for his decisions! He's just. . . acting _weird_."

"Hm." Glenda idly cycled through several video feeds on the monitor before her; each image showed a different part of the _Goliath_. "You're right, about his behavior anyway."

"I. . . I am?" Kotomi blinked. Even at the age of nineteen, she still saw Glenda and her grandfather as adults and herself as a girl. They were "grown up" and therefore inclined to agree with one another- in opposition to _her_. But here Glenda was, more or less taking her side.

Glenda grinned at her. "Yeah. River's not usually so secretive." Her smile faded into a thoughtful pursing of her full lips. "And he really wants _me_ to take over if he- if something happens to him?" She shook her curly head slowly. "Yeah, I'm good at manning the radio and flying, but I don't even have a _clue_ about what's going on with Fata Morgana, bunny."

"I didn't know anything about you taking over either," Kotomi murmured, still blushing faintly at what she supposed was going to be her nickname from now on. "I guess he's planning to fill you in later. Glenda," she added, looking up at the other woman hopefully, "if he _does_ tell you anything else about Pandora's communication, will you. . . will you tell me?"

"Sure- long as you don't tattle on me for spilling the beans." Glenda gave her a searching look. "You think there's something he didn't tell us at the briefing?"

"I'm not sure, but. . . ." Kotomi frowned, turning her eyes back to watch the monitors. "Something's worrying me about my sister, Komomo. I haven't seen her since day before yesterday- she didn't come down to breakfast yesterday morning, and when I asked about her, Grandfather said she had gone back to- back home, in the night." She still hesitated at referring to Kitashirakawa family's real home- a faraway planet with a kingdom called, in the closest English translation possible, Bunnyland. (Part of Kotomi's reticence did, as might be expected, come from embarrassment over her kingdom's name.)

"And you don't think she has?"

"Well, she's been kidnapped twice already," Kotomi pointed out, "once with the rest of us by a demon king named Yohmaoh, and once by the Hildroid. So when Komomo disappears, everyone assumes she's been abducted again."

Glenda shifted in her seat, folding up her long legs in front of her. "So you think Pandora's kidnapped her? And River's not telling you- or us?"

Kotomi shrugged. "I. . . I don't know- he's never lied to me before. He _says_ he sent her home as soon as he got the communication from Pandora so that if something did happen to the Earth, Komomo would be safe." She groaned faintly, rubbing her temples in her hands. "I guess it makes sense- we left home in the first place after Yohmaoh's attack because Grandfather thought we might still be in danger there. But when Fata Morgana started attacking Earth, we all stuck it out. I don't know why he would send her back _now_. But then. . . I don't know why he would lie if she _were_ kidnapped again, or why he wouldn't let me help rescue her this time."

She broke off, aware that she was practically babbling, but Glenda only nodded. "Good point. Would your sister have left the planet without saying goodbye to you?"

Kotomi had to grin a little at that. "Oh yeah- that's not what's got me worried. Komomo's very independent- or at least she likes to think she is. She'd leave without seeing me just to prove a point." Her smile faded as she added, "But. . . there's one other thing that's bothering me."

"Yeah?"

Kotomi hesitated, finding it hard to speak the next words- but somehow, she already trusted Glenda enough to say them. " Glenda. . . Grandfather has _never_ talked this way before, like he could. . . _die_ in an attack. This is the first time he's made any plans for someone to replace him." She expected Glenda to laugh off her concern, to tell her not to worry about it because River-N-White was old after all or because he was just being practical. In short, Kotomi expected to be patronized, but the older woman surprised her once more.

"Yeah. He's never spoken that way to me before either." Glenda abruptly put a long, brown arm around Kotomi's shoulders and squeezed them in a surprising gesture of comforting. "Well, bunny, looks like we'll just have to figure it out together, eventually. But for now, what I _can_ do is start showing you how to run this old bird's radio system."

"O-okay." Kotomi managed an embarrassed smile at her, leaning against her arm a moment before Glenda withdrew it to turn on the radios. Kotomi had never experienced much female affection: her grandmother had died shortly after giving birth to Kotomi's father, and she hardly remembered her own parents. What's more, Komomo's independence precluded much sentiment from _that_ direction. Glenda seemed to truly like her though, despite the difference in their ages and stations. For the first time in a long while, Kotomi felt like she had someone- especially another woman- on her side.


	4. Chapter 4

Hawk spent the afternoon hanging out with Blaster- and, to his dismay, Steve, who had apparently decided that Blaster was supposed to be his new best friend as well as partner. The Frenchman had chattered straight up until dinner (mostly about himself) while unpacking his prodigious amount of belongings; Blaster had nodded at the appropriate intervals with hardly a chance to speak except to answer questions like, "But _where_ did your robot body go?" (which was followed by "Not that you aren't just as cute as a human!"). It was almost enough to make Hawk grateful that he had the taciturn Volk for a partner instead of Steve.

After a dismal meal of regulation canned food, the pilots were ordered to their cabins to "rest up and get to know each other better," in Lord River-N-White's words. Hawk knew that the last order was directed at Volk and himself, since they were the only team who had not fought as partners at least once in the past. Still, he wasn't in any hurry to "get to know" his morose partner.

He trudged back towards their cabin, making sure that he stayed several yards behind Volk; the Russian had not so much as acknowledged Hawk's existence during dinner, and Hawk had no desire to start fraternizing with him now. Chaika and Pooshika walked with them since the twins' cabin was next door to theirs. Pooshika hurried ahead to pester Volk, leaving Hawk alone with the quieter and more sensible Chaika. She was cute in a nerdy sort of way, different from her sister in appearance thanks to her round glasses, affinity for the color blue instead of red, and habit of wearing her blond hair in a ponytail on the right side of her head instead of the left.

"I wish Pooshika would leave him alone," Chaika murmured as she watched her sister chattering away at the older man. "It's like teasing a wolf! He'll bite her head off one of these days."

"What does she see in him, anyway?" Hawk muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"He's mysterious, I guess," Chaika shrugged. "Pooshika thinks that kind of thing is romantic."

"'Romantic' is the _last_ word I'd used to describe _him_." Hawk's sentiment was punctuated by what sounded like a snarl from Volk. Hawk couldn't understand the actual words he'd said to Pooshika, but they were enough to make the girl fall back to join Hawk and her sister. Volk stormed on ahead into his and Hawk's cabin, slamming the door behind him.

"I _told_ you not to bother him," Chaika scolded.

Pooshika, apparently none the worse for wear, only beamed. "I just asked him what he'd been doing the last two years. I guess he didn't want to talk about it!"

"You guys are lucky _you're_ not partnered with him this time," Hawk complained. "I don't know how I'm going to stand it!"

"Hey, if you want to trade, you can fly with Whity!" Pooshika said cheerfully. "And if you don't want to share a room with Volk, we can-"

"_Pooshika!_" Chaika practically wailed, then turned to Hawk, blushing darkly. "Don't listen to her. Lord River-N-White would never let us trade. And Pooshika," she admonished, "how could you even _joke_ about sharing a room with a man?" Pooshika just grinned.

"You mean you aren't rooming with Whity?" Hawk asked as the three stopped outside their cabin doors. "Not that he's a man, exactly, but I thought Tee-Bee said partners had to share a cabin."

"Not in our case," Pooshika grumbled. "River's so old-fashioned, I'm sure he would never even consider that males and females could share a room."

"And he's exactly right!" Chaika declared. "It would be completely improper for us to sleep in the same room as a guy- even if he _is_ a dolphin. Mao Mao is staying in the cabin with us," she explained to Hawk, "and Hien is sharing with Whity."

_Poor Hien_, Hawk thought with a smirk. Once he and the girls had separated and gone to their own rooms, however, he began to pity himself instead. . . especially when Volk reminded him it was nearly bedtime, as soon as Hawk entered the room.

"This," he declared with a pouting scowl as he slumped on his bed, "is totally bogus." Volk only glared at Hawk out of his single organic eye from where he was sprawled on the other bed in their cabin.

"Commander's orders," the Russian said shortly. "Lights out at twenty-two hundred hours."

Hawk continued to sulk, "I bet no one _else_ is going to bed that early. Lucky me to get stuck with the one person who insists on following that dumb rule."

"Believe me," the cyborg growled, "it was not _my_ choice to be your partner."

"Bite me," Hawk muttered as he fumbled through his duffel bag- still not unpacked- for his iPod. Volk, on the other hand, was surprisingly organized; he had already unpacked the few belongings he had brought. However, there was still hardly a sign that anyone lived on his side of the room at all.

"You still have much to learn- especially about keeping a proper attitude toward your elders," snarled Volk, his normal curtness apparently no match for dealing with Hawk. "You are an annoying little twerp!"

"At least _I_ get along with people. And it's not _my_ fault you're old," Hawk retorted, although he knew Volk was only in his thirties. "I don't care what River's reasoning was; he didn't have to make _you_ my partner instead of Hien or somebody. Or heck, my brother is one of the best pilots _ever_."

"Hmph, and I suppose other cyborgs do have more patience than I do with insolent brats." Hawk wasn't sure if the reference to Blaster's inorganic body was meant to be an insult or not. However, it didn't bother him: past danger to Blaster's life aside, he thought it was pretty awesome to have a cyborg for a brother.

"He's a better-looking cyborg than you'll ever be. And I bet he's tougher than you any day, too!" Hawk crowed. "Do _you_ have a drill under there that can pierce a chunk of iron?" He leaned across the short distance between their beds and jabbed a finger into Volk's right arm, which like the rest of the Russian was hidden under his long, dark cloak.

Volk growled and slapped Hawk's hand away. "No, but what I do have is a very heavy metal foot for kicking annoying boys when they poke me."

"Ouch, man!" Hawk rubbed his stinging hand ruefully and withdrew to the safety of his own bed. "Bet I could take you," he grumbled defensively, "foot or not. And stop calling me a _boy_- I'm not a kid!" He continued to strew clothes over his half of the room as he searched for his iPod. Volk said nothing further, which actually irritated Hawk even more; he sort of enjoyed drawing the Russian out. Still, for the sake of his sanity (and possibly, his physical safety) over the next few weeks, he decided he'd better not make Volk _too_ angry.

Hawk finally rescued his iPod from the bottom of his bag, then dug out clean shorts and a t-shirt, followed by a bottle of shampoo. (He had almost forgotten that, but fortunately, Blaster had reminded him.) _At least I can get away from him for a little while, _Hawk thought as he left the cabin and went down the hall to the bathroom the male pilots shared.

Volk left to shower after Hawk returned from his. Hawk took the opportunity of being alone- probably his last for a while- to put in his earbuds and have some fun jumping around the room, lip syncing and playing air guitar. He knew he probably looked pretty silly, but it was his favorite way to unwind and work off excess energy.

Unfortunately, Volk took particularly short showers. Hawk was happily dancing away with his back to the cabin door when he felt the earbuds yanked out of his ears from behind. Hawk squawked in protest and spun around, feeling his face catch fire when he found Volk, now dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and pants, glowering down at him.

_Great, he must think I'm crazy!_ Hawk groaned inwardly; however, he was determined not to let his embarrassment show beyond his blushing cheeks.

"Hey, I have to keep in practice for _Guitar Hero_!" he snapped, the first excuse that came to mind as he silenced his iPod.

"You can listen to all the music you want, especially if it keeps your big mouth shut. But you will be _still_ when you do so," Volk snarled in response. "Besides, curfew is in ten minutes."

"So?" Hawk retorted. "Who's gonna make me go to bed right at ten?" He deliberately used civilian twelve-hour time instead of military (and, from what he had heard, European) time, knowing that it would irritate Volk further.

Sure enough, the Russian corrected, "Twenty-two hundred hours!" with a glare. "And _I_ will be making you go to bed. River made you my partner so that you would learn from me- and you will start by learning to follow the rules!"

Hawk gave him a disbelieving glare. "Yeah, I'm real sure _you've _always followed the rules. Is that how you ended up with one eye and one foot- going to bed at curfew?" He gestured at Volk's mechanical left foot, which was more prominently visible now that the Russian had shed his full-length cloak.

Volk's single grey eye opened a little wider, and Hawk saw the Russian's unshaven jaw tighten as his ground his teeth in what was presumably fury. He grasped Hawk by the front of his t-shirt and pulled the boy close to him, snarling, "No, but unless you want to end up in the same condition, you will do as I say!"

Hawk stared up at him, frozen with apprehension. He had seen Volk angry before- who hadn't, after all?- but the full force of that anger had never before been directed at _him_. _He's going to crush me,_ Hawk thought distinctly. After a moment, though, Volk just shoved Hawk away from him, causing the smaller man to stagger backwards and sit down hard on his bed.

Hawk glared at Volk, both affronted and a little hurt. Volk returned the stare, his eye narrowed and his forehead furrowed so that his shaggy blond eyebrows nearly met above his beak-like, scarred nose. He was angry, certainly, but there was something else in that gaze: to Hawk's amazement, Volk looked a little hurt himself.

_I shouldn't have said that about his foot and eye. . . it was cruel._ _Even Volk doesn't deserve that. But Project Blue pilots should treat each other with respect,_ Hawk told himself. _If he doesn't respect me, then I shouldn't be nice to him either!_

Volk said nothing more, only turned away to his own bed. He paused to lean over and pound a fist against the light switch by the cabin's door, then Hawk heard the other bed creak as the Russian climbed in.

_Poor light switch,_ Hawk thought. He considered turning his iPod back on, but somehow, Volk had killed his desire to hear anything but silence. Hawk let the iPod drop to the floor beside his bed.

_Is he going to sleep like that, in a long-sleeved shirt and pants?_ he wondered, turning on his left side to stare into the complete darkness towards where the other man lay silently. _And with that heavy metal foot attached-the one he wants to kick me with?_ Remembering Volk's mechanical parts led to another thought: _What if he can see in the dark? He could be glaring at me **right now**. _Hawk shivered slightly and turned over onto his right side so that his back would be to Volk just in case.

Hawk tried to think about his upcoming first mission instead- anything to take the cyborg off his mind. _Where will Lord River send us? And who will I have to fight?_ Maybe Hawk would get a shot at Pandora eventually, but he knew that wouldn't happen for a while: Fata Morgana always sent out its weaker forces first. Most of these forces consisted of human-built vehicles Morgana had commandeered- and most often, these vehicles operated _themselves_, without any living being to drive them. Hawk found that to be creepy but also a little cool at the same time- and although he'd never admit it to anyone, not even Blaster, he felt a lot better about destroying those enemy vehicles knowing that there weren't any humans inside.

_How does Pandora do it?_ Hawk wondered sleepily as he let his eyes close against the darkness. _She must have, like, mental control over all those machines. . . or **somebody** in Morgana does. And what about the alien stuff they use. . . the UFOs and all? Did they build those, or did they steal them from other planets like ours?_ He yawned, and as sleep over took him, Hawk imagined himself taking down some of those UFOs, overcoming alien technology with good old American fire power.

_That'd show Volk I'm not just a boy. . . ._


	5. Chapter 5

Mao Mao woke up before seven the next morning, excitement and jet lag keeping her from sleeping any longer. There were of course no windows in her cabin on the _Goliath_, but the ever-prepared Chaika had brought a digital alarm clock and placed it on the console between the girls' beds. Mao Mao frowned slightly at the chartreuse, square numbers telling her that it was only 6:43 am.

_I wonder if the twins are awake,_ she thought, wanting a chance to chatter with them about what their assignments might be. However, when Mao Mao turned the clock to cast its green glow on the twins' bed, it revealed that they were still asleep: Chaika on the side closest to Mao Mao with one arm tucked under her pillow, and Pooshika sprawled on her back with one arm folded over her chest and the other flopped on her sister's head.

Mao Mao lay down on her back herself, pulling Rabio on top of her chest and wrapping her arms around him. _Where will we be sent? And what will we fight when we get there?_ In the past, she had faced everything from ghosts to eyeballs to giant squid; nothing much would surprise her. _And none of them will be a match for us either- not for Hien and me!_

Her excitement too great to abide lying around in bed, Mao Mao got up and felt her way over to the cubby where she had hung up her uniform the night before. She took it into the bathroom to change, and to her relief, the twins were up by the time she returned to their cabin. Or at least, Chaika was up, already dressed and pulling her boots out of her small, royal blue suitcase.

"Good morning!" Mao Mao said cheerfully as she sat down to put on her own boots.

"Nnngh," replied Pooshika. She was still in bed, still sprawled, but now one arm was flung across her eyes, blocking out the cabin's sterile fluorescent light.

"Good morning," Chaika said to Mao Mao, then she stood and nudged her sister's leg with the boot in her right hand. "Pooshika, quit being lazy and get up!"

"Go 'way."

Chaika put her hands on her hips, a boot dangling from each. "You'll miss breakfast!"

Pooshika sighed and sat up, pushing herself up on her arms. "Okay, okay, if you put it that way. . . ."

When Pooshika was finally ready, the three went to the mess hall for breakfast. Only Hien and Blaster Keaton were already there. Keaton was happily shoveling in a huge plate of scrambled eggs, but Hien was sitting quietly with only a cup of tea in front of him. However, he was still wearing his mask, which covered his face from the nose downward. It lead Mao Mao to wonder just how he would drink that tea.

"Morning guys!" she called cheerily, sitting down beside Keaton and across from Hien.

"Hi Mao Mao," Keaton mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. "Hey, when Tee-Bee comes in to ask you want you want to eat, get him to make you some eggs- he's a damn fine cook for a robot."

"Oh? But don't you consider yourself a robot too?" she teased.

Keaton just grinned at her. "Exactly. I'm a robot who could burn Jell-O."

The twins had just sat down next to Hien when Tee-Bee came rolling in.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked them in his mechanical voice. "This is probably the only time you'll get to choose, so pick carefully. With Kowful around, we'll be down to canned beans by tomorrow morning," he growled when Pooshika opened her mouth to reply immediately.

Undeterred, she chirped, "Waffles, please! With whipped cream on top. Oh and hot chocolate!"

"You'll rot your teeth, Pooshika," Chaika sighed. "I just want buttered toast and whatever tea Hien is having." She hazarded a small smile at the ninja. "It smells delicious."

"Right." Tee-Bee rolled around the table to look up at Mao Mao. "What about you?"

"Umm. . . I want a waffle too! But just with maple syrup and tea." She patted the short robot on the head. "Thanks, Tee-Bee!"

"Sure, whatever," grumbled the robot as he rolled off. Mao Mao wasn't sure if he were really that grumpy or just embarrassed at her show of affection. She turned to her fighting partner instead, although he wasn't usually much more emotive than Tee-Bee.

"Hien, how did you slee-" She broke off and stared at his cup. "What happened to your tea?"

"I drank it," he replied haughtily.

"But. . . I didn't see you do it!" Mao Mao looked at the other three for help, but they only shrugged.

"Neither did we," Pooshika put in.

"How _did_ you, without taking your mask off?" Mao Mao persisted, but Hien just looked at her. "Right," she sighed, "I know, I know. . . you're a ninja." His brown eyes crinkled at the corners, making her think that he must be smiling under his mask.

Most of the others- except for Steve, who Keaton said was still sleeping when Blaster left their cabin- had come in for breakfast by the time Mao Mao went to the command center for their second briefing. Lord River-N-White was already there, poring over some papers; he gave her a distant smile but did not speak before returning to his reading. By 9:00 am, the appointed time for the meeting, everyone had gathered except for Steve, who scurried in a minute late.

"I was fixing my hair!" he whispered loudly to Keaton when Blaster scolded him for being tardy.

"This will likely be the last time we meet together before engaging the enemy," River began, "so if you have any questions, now is the time to ask. Each team will receive a different assignment; once dispatched, you will be expected to remain in contact with Glenda via radio to apprise her of any encounters with Fata Morgana. If you should see any sign of the enemy at your assigned location, you are to let us know immediately, then attempt to destroy or at least drive off Fata Morgana's forces in your area. We will send backup when possible, but in most cases, you'll be on your own."

Mao Mao felt a little thrill at his words: just Hien and her, off in some exotic location, saving innocent civilians from the threat of alien invasion! It was much more exciting than singing.

"Now, for your assignments," River continued. "I have reason to suspect that one of Pandora's targets is London, or possibly some other area in England."

"England?" Steve interrupted. "What would she want with damp old _England_?"

"Steve!" Keaton hissed; apparently, he considered it his duty to keep his rather clueless partner in line.

"Call it a hunch," River said with a glare at Steve for speaking negatively of his adopted country. "And I hope you're _fond_ of the damp, because you and Keaton have been assigned there."

"Oh." Steve flopped back into his chair, sulking.

"You will be dispatched to London, but you are to investigate any suspicious activity you hear of throughout the country." River turned to address the rest of the pilots as well. "That goes for all of you. As you are probably aware, each of Fata Morgana's attacks in the past was accompanied by a rise in reports of paranormal activity- UFO sightings, supernatural occurrences such as the appearance of ghosts, and even purported religious experiences. If such reports are prevalent in your area, it could mean that Fata Morgana is preparing to strike."

"Yes sir," said Keaton. "I. . . do have a question though."

River looked slightly put out, but he nodded all the same. "What is it?"

Keaton's cheeks flushed, making him look surprisingly young- in fact, Mao Mao thought, he and Hawk seemed nearly identical at times. "I, uh, wondered which body I'll be fighting in: this one or my robot one."

"That will depend on Dr. Kowful," River replied, turning to look at the huge man beside him.

"Considering that you lost your _last_ robot body," Kowful growled, "_and_ the one before that, you're lucky to have any body at all!" Keaton blushed all the harder as Steve muffled a giggle with his delicate hand. "But I have rebuilt your previous body from my plans, and I can install it before you leave on your mission." He glanced at River. "Despite the dent he's put in our budget, I think his improved performance will be well worth the expense."

"Thanks," Keaton mumbled, sinking down into his seat, still blushing.

"Now, for the rest of you." River looked at Whity, Chaika, and Pooshika next. "You three have an assignment in India. You may remember, three years ago there was an attack made in a ruined Hindu temple. The instigator was an ancient weapon nicknamed the Mars-Vesta, which either the Hildroid or Fata Morgana revived. It was believed to be destroyed- we certainly have had no word of it since- but I want you to investigate and make sure Fata Morgana has not reconstructed it. While it doesn't seem to be as. . . ambitious as the rest of our enemies, it has astounding abilities and could be devastating to us if used at the right moment."

"Yes sir," Chaika said calmly, even as Pooshika's eyes widened with excitement. Whity too seemed pleased with the mission, judging from his happy chirps.

_How cool!_ Mao Mao thought, a little jealously. She remembered hearing stories about the shape-shifting Mars-Vesta, and seeking out an ancient weapon in a ruinous Hindu temple sounded exciting. _Just like Indiana Jones- I could have been a pilot __**and**__ an explorer!_ She quickly silenced her thoughts when River turned to her.

"Mao Mao and Hien, you two will be assigned to Tokyo."

"_Tokyo_?" Mao Mao wailed before she could stop herself. All of her exciting visions crashed to the ground at the thought of having to go right back to Japan.

"Quiet!" Hien hissed at her, making her glare at him in indignation.

"Yes, Tokyo," River said sternly. "Although no threats have been made to Japan thus far, in the past Fata Morgana has _always_ attacked it first. I don't wish to take any chances with your country's safety, Mao Mao."

"Yes sir," she muttered glumly. _I understand __**that**__, but why do __**we**__ have to go there? That's not exciting at all- I've spent my whole life in Japan!_

"That leaves the two of you, Hawk and Volk," River finished. "Until Fata Morgana makes a decisive move, you two will be sent to our base on the edge of Siberia. There, Volk, you are to practice with Hawk whatever maneuvers you see fit- although of course, you both are also to be on the alert for any suspicious activity. Fata Morgana has often attempted to make secret installations in the area of the former Soviet Union, so if you find any signs of them, act aggressively and notify us by radio."

Volk nodded, no expression at all on his chiseled face. Hawk, however, stared down at the table, looking about as happy as Mao Mao felt. _At least I'm not the only one with an awful assignment, _she thought. _Imagine having __**Volk**__ bossing you around- and having to practice maneuvers instead of fighting a real enemy!_

River dismissed them after handing out a printed dossier to each of them; the files contained the scanty information Project Blue had collected on each of Fata Morgana's members. After that, there was nothing for the pilots to do but wait for the _Goliath _to reach each of their destinations and drop them off.

Being the farthest west, Japan was the mother ship's last stop, leaving Mao Mao to sit in the _Goliath_'s hangar beside her F-15 to wait her turn to depart. Hien leaned silently against his own plane, an FSX which, like the helicopter he had used before, was marked with his trademark kanji. Mao Mao tried to think of something to say to him, but no words would come.

Once the _Goliath_ was close enough, they flew their planes down to the small base Project Blue maintained just outside Tokyo. Mao Mao had been there often enough in the past, but the base seemed desolate now that, like the _Goliath_, it was running on a skeleton crew.

It was already dark when they arrived. _Still,_ _I was only away from Japan for about twenty-four hours!_ Mao Mao thought with a sigh as she left in her room the few belongings she had brought with her, little more than a change of clothes. She tried to tell herself that they wouldn't be there long: _Either Fata Morgana's here, and we'll take care of them- or they're not, and we'll get to go somewhere else._

Mao Mao started to head down to the mess hall for a late meal, but she stopped only a few yards from her door before resolutely turning around and going back. She knocked on the door across the hall from her own, where Hien had been given a room. Mao Mao half-expected that he wouldn't answer, but he opened the door after a moment.

"What is it?" Hien asked from beneath the mask he still wore.

"I'm going out to get some dinner- I'm not going to eat the stuff here if I don't have to. Do you want to come?" She didn't even _half_-expect a refusal this time; she was fully prepared for him to say no, but she would be annoyed with herself if she didn't at least try.

"You shouldn't go out by yourself at night," Hien told her sternly. "It isn't safe." Then, to Mao Mao's amazement, he stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. "We can go, but only if we look for signs of Fata Morgana while we're out. We aren't here for a vacation!"

Mao Mao looked Hien up and down, eyeing his ninja attire. "You're going out like that?" she asked skeptically. Hien didn't dignify her with an answer.

The base's staff had been instructed to provide them with whatever equipment they needed, so borrowing a car to drive into the city was no problem. Once there, they walked silently down the brightly-lit, lively streets, Mao Mao's heart fluttering every now and then. _It's sort of like a date, anyway,_ she thought, smiling to herself. _Even if he's wearing a ninja costume and he hardly ever talks._ At least Hien's uniform went mostly unnoticed in the flashy dress of the people around them.

Hien stopped at a twenty-four-hour newsstand and bought a stack of papers, both respectable and tabloid, then handed half of the pile to Mao Mao.

"Look through these while you eat," he ordered. "The tabloids will probably be more likely to have the sort of sightings that precede Fata Morgana."

"Okay, okay," Mao Mao sighed. "Let's just go in that sushi bar over there- I'm too tired to walk anymore!"

"Lazy," sniffed Hien- but then, he took her arm as they walked into the restaurant, and Mao Mao instantly forgave him.

She felt a good bit more cheerful as she ate tempura-style maki and browsed through the papers Hien had given her. She didn't see much news of the supernatural- except for a piece about the mysterious abduction of a certain idol singer.

"Hien, they think you're an alien!" Mao Mao giggled, shoving her newspaper across the table to him. "Look at that!"

"Hm." Hien gave a cursory glance to the article, which detailed Mao Mao's disappearance at the start of her concert the previous night. "I see no mention of a ninja- that's good, at least." He glanced up at her strictly. "You should have disguised yourself when we arrived here, though; someone might recognize you out on the street like this. We'd have no peace then."

"Oh, stop worrying!" Mao Mao scooped some rice into her mouth. "No one will recognize me without my makeup."

"I hope you're right." Hien snaked a bite of unagi up under his mask with his chopsticks. (_So __**that's**__ how he eats!_ Mao Mao thought.) "You look much better without it, anyway."

Mao Mao beamed at him. "You really think so?"

Hien immediately lowered his eyes to his plate, narrowing them slightly. "It's more natural," he mumbled. "Now quit reading about _yourself _andget back to work."

After reading in silence for a moment, Hien drew in his breath sharply. "Mao- here!" He turned the paper he was reading- a tabloid with a rather trashy reputation- towards her and pointed to a grainy photo of what looked vaguely like a teal flying saucer shaped like a horseshoe.

"Um." Mao Mao swallowed the last bite of her maki. "So? I know River said to look for UFO sightings, but that looks pretty fake."

Hien rolled his eyes impatiently. "How many fake UFOs are _that_ color and shape? Don't you recognize it?" He pulled a rolled-up sheaf of papers from a fold of his clothing and flipped through them before shoving one at her. "It's the Super X Kai."

Mao Mao flushed slightly in embarrassment; she hadn't even bothered to look through the dossier River had given her, and here Hien had brought his to dinner. But as she compared the two images, she realized that he was right. The flying craft Super X Kai had attacked Japan several times before, sometimes alone and sometimes as the head of larger vehicles. _I should have recognized it immediately,_ Mao Mao thought as she looked at the much higher-quality photo on the dossier; Kai's teal camouflage pattern was clearly visible there. Its signature mark- the kanji 改, kai- was not obvious in the tabloid's photo, but she was certain it was the same craft.

"Tokyo _is_ in danger, then," Mao Mao murmured. She sighed as Hien rolled up the Kai's profile along with the tabloid. "I just wish River had sent someone else here instead of us. How many times am I going to have to save Japan before I get to do something different?"

"Don't be a pain," Hien said gruffly. "River sent us here because we were the best pilots for this assignment; we both know Tokyo through and through." He stood, adjusting his mask. "Come on- we need to review this information thoroughly and get some sleep so we can search for Kai in the morning."

To Mao Mao's disappointment, Hien meant that they should review Kai's profile separately. After they returned to the base, he left her in her room with the tabloid and her dossier, then shut himself up in his own room. Mao Mao put on her red and white striped pajamas and climbed into bed with Rabio and her papers.

"Like I don't already know all about Super X," she said grumpily to the plush rabbit as she glared down at Kai's profile. "It shoots fireballs like everything else in Fata Morgana! It's not even all that dangerous as long as it doesn't attach to a body." The dossier provided photos of Kai's two "bodies" as well: one a four-legged walker known as the Super XX, and the other a building-sized mecha named Tokion.

"So if we do find it, we need to destroy it immediately, before it can find a body." Mao Mao twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "If I freeze it with my E-Wave, then Hien attacks it with his Ninja Beam- it won't stand a chance!" Satisfied, she tossed the dossier and tabloid on the floor beside her bed, then turned off the light before curling up with Rabio. Her thoughts immediately drifted away from Super X Kai and any danger it might pose to Tokyo.

_I wonder if Hien really does think I'm prettier without my stage makeup,_ Mao Mao mused, not daring to ask the question aloud even to Rabio. She rubbed one of the toy's velvety ears against her cheek as she yawned. _I hope so. . . . It would be nice for someone to like me better plain than as a star._


	6. Chapter 6

To Hawk's amazement, his first training mission in Siberia went well enough. Volk insisted that they begin right away, the afternoon of their arrival. Hawk didn't protest though; it felt good to be back in his F-14B Tomcat, speeding through a target practice course. . . even if Volk's helicopter, a red Ka-50 Hokum, made Hawk feel as if the Russian were constantly hovering over his shoulder.

Besides, Hawk had to admit to himself that he _needed_ target practice: yeah, he had defeated Lar single-handedly- but he had used enough ammo for a small army to do it. Volk was a crack shot thanks to his mechanical eye, and although Hawk's first few shots went wild, he got better as the session progressed, mostly because Volk's grudgingly-given, radioed advice enabled him to improve.

_But I'll be damned if I let him know he's actually helping me, _Hawk thought defiantly as he walked to the small base's mess hall for dinner that evening. _He'll never see me as an adult if he finds out that I need him._ So when Volk joined him in the empty hall a few minutes later, Hawk refused to even look at him, much less speak. Hawk was irritated, though, to discover that Volk didn't even seem to notice the silent treatment. He merely finished his canned stew mechanically, then returned to the room they still had to share, even on the nearly-empty base.

By the time Hawk finished his own meal and showered, it was near their curfew- which Volk still demanded they uphold. At exactly twenty-two hundred hours, Volk wordlessly turned off the lamp between their beds, dousing Hawk and his iPod in darkness.

_Screw him!_ Hawk snarled silently. _He's not getting away with- with pretending I'm not even here!_ He leaned over and switched the lamp back on.

"Turn that off," Volk growled, squeezing his organic eye shut against the light.

"No. I'm going to stay up awhile and read," Hawk said as cockily as he could manage. Fortunately, he actually had reading material on him, a video game magazine he had stuck in his duffel bag at the last minute. He leaned over to pull it out of his bag on the floor.

"You are _not_!" snarled Volk, reaching out to turn off the light himself. Hawk sat up furiously and fumbled for the lamp, bumping hands with Volk. Volk grabbed his hand and shoved it away, only to have Hawk get out of bed, stumble across the room in the darkness, and turn on the overhead light at the wall switch.

"Quit bossing me around!" Hawk shouted, glaring at the cyborg even as he felt a sense of relief: he much preferred out-and-out arguing to their stony silences. "I'm freakin' sick of you telling me what to do!"

"Why do you think River wanted you to train with an older pilot?" Volk shot back. "Because you _need_ someone to tell you what to do, you arrogant little twit!"

"Well, I don't need _you_." Hawk stomped closer to yell at him, "I _hate_ you, you bastard!" Even as he said the words, he knew he didn't mean them: _If I hated him, I wouldn't care what he thinks of me._ But it was the strongest, most hurtful thing he could come up with, the only way he knew to make Volk quit ignoring him.

"And I," Volk growled back without missing a beat as he narrowed his single eye, "hate insolent little boys. I had already guessed that your brother had not raised you properly- now I _know_ he did not."  
"Quit talking to me like that!" Hawk demanded, clenching his fists in frustration at his sides. "I'm not a kid!"

"Then quit acting like one!" Volk shoved back his blanket and stood, his metal foot clanking harshly on the floor. He glared down at Hawk menacingly. "I will speak to you as an adult when you learn to follow orders and obey your superiors."

"I can follow orders just fine when they _do_ come from a superior!" Hawk retorted. "But you're no better than the rest of us pilots, so quit acting like it! You think everyone's scared of you- but they're _not_!"

Volk grinned suddenly, quite an unnerving sight. "Oh, and _you_ are not scared of me either, little one?"

"No, I'm not!" Hawk yelled, made even angrier by the grin. "My own brother's a lot tougher than _you_ are, whatever you think of how he raised me!"

Volk's smile disappeared immediately. "Hmph. I could take on your brother any time."

"In your dreams!" Hawk snapped; Volk might be able to get away with a slight to Blaster's parenting skills, but Hawk wasn't about to take comments about Blaster's strength lying down. "He'd turn you into scrap metal!"

The Russian's organic eye narrowed again, studying the boy in silence for a long, rather frightening moment. "You are very tough when it is Blaster who will be doing the fighting," Volk finally muttered. "I do not see _you_ offering to take me on."

Hawk hesitated, feeling the blood drain from his face. _He wants __**me**__ to fight him? He's like half a foot taller than I am- and he's got all those metal parts!_ Still, there was nothing he could do but challenge Volk's assumption that Hawk would refuse to fight, not without losing face forever.

"I will _so_!" Hawk cried, glaring up at Volk boldly. "I'd- I'd do it right now!" Volk actually blinked at Hawk's bravado, his expression both irritated and a little impressed.

"All right then," the Russian snarled. "Right now." He stepped to the middle of the room and glowered at Hawk, waiting. Hawk wondered just what they were getting into; he doubted Lord River-N-White- or Hawk's own brother, for that matter- would look highly upon members of Project Blue fighting one another rather than the enemy. But still, there was nothing else for it now.

"You'd better not hold back, 'cause I sure won't!" Hawk crowed, hopping back and forth like he had seen boxers do in video games. "I'm ready for you any time!" For just an instant, Volk's face faltered, as if he weren't convinced he was doing the right thing. . . but then it hardened.

"If you are ready, stop hopping around like a little bunny rabbit," Volk scoffed. "Bring it."

"You got it!" growled Hawk, drawing back his right fist to aim a punch at Volk's jaw. Volk's cyborg eye, so useful in target practice, gave him an advantage in tracking movement more closely than a human eye could; he easily dodged the blow, darting his own large hand up to catch Hawk's fist.

Hawk gulped in surprise, but he wasn't about to back down. In fact, the very act- actually _doing_ something to Volk rather than continuing their useless verbal arguments- flooded him with adrenaline. Refusing to give up, he punched his left fist at Volk. Volk caught that fist even more easily, but he could do nothing further: unless he let go of Hawk's hands, they were in a deadlock.

Or so Hawk thought until Volk tried a different tactic.

"Give up now, little one!" the Russian snarled, kicking at Hawk with his bare organic foot. It came in contact with Hawk's own left foot, and the boy stumbled at the force of the powerful kick, falling to one knee as Volk let go of his fists.

"Never!" Hawk declared, bracing himself on his palms to keep from losing his balance completely as he stared up at Volk. "A Keaton never says die!" He managed to get back to his feet a few steps away from the Russian, panting and desperately wondering what he was supposed to do next. He had been in a few scraps before with neighborhood boys, but he had never encountered a grown man in a fight- and certainly not a grown man like Volk.

"What a pity," Volk sneered. "You looked good on your knees." Hawk felt his face flood with furious heat.

"Okay, now you've got me mad!" he yelled, forgetting all about strategy in his angry embarrassment. He charged at Volk and grabbed him around the waist, trying to knock him off balance. The much larger and heavier man stumbled backward only a step before regaining his equilibrium; he wrapped his own arms about Hawk's waist and flipped the boy over his shoulder. Hawk found himself regarding the ground from nearly six feet away.

"That's not fair!" Hawk cried, beating on Volk's back with his fists. "Let me down!" Volk at first gave no sign that he even felt the blows to his back, but then, one of Hawk's kicking feet came in contact with the Russian's chest. Hawk wasn't sure what he had done, but Volk cringed and dropped Hawk to the floor unceremoniously. Volk stayed bent over slightly with his back to Hawk, breathing heavily.

Hawk wasn't sure what had happened, but he finally had the advantage. He crowed, "Ha, now I've gotcha!" as he tackled Volk from behind. This time Volk was the one who fell to his knees, landing hard on his left leg as Hawk pounced on his back.

"You tenacious little brat-" Volk wheezed as he tried to throw Hawk off. At first the Russian's efforts were futile, but then his elbow came in contact with Hawk's midsection. A sharp pain shot through Hawk's stomach, leaving him the one unable to breathe. Volk easily knocked Hawk away now, and the boy landed on the floor on his back with a thud that brought a fresh burst of pain. He panicked as he tried to breathe, but then he realized that he couldn't draw in more air simply because was still holding in his last breath. He exhaled, then inhaled sharply.

"Oooghh," Hawk groaned, staring up at the ceiling (and noticing for the first time that it looked as if it had leaked quite a bit at some point in the past). The pain in his back quickly abated, but he felt as if he were going to have a killer bruise on his abdomen thanks to Volk's surprisingly sharp elbow. He heard Volk struggling to his feet, then the Russian was towering over him, glaring down at Hawk.

_He's going to step on me or something,_ Hawk thought miserably- but instead, Volk's face softened ever so slightly in a motion that was hardly noticeable. The Russian crouched down beside Hawk and tentatively placed a hand on the boy's arm.

"Are. . . you all right?" Volk asked huskily. Hawk almost forgot all about the pain in his stomach as he stared up into the single grey eye in amazement. _He's. . . worried about me?_

"Y-yeah, I'm. . . I'm okay," Hawk mumbled woozily as he struggled to rise, finally managing to get into a sitting position despite the ache in his stomach. He half-suspected that Volk's show of concern was a front and that the Russian would finish beating him up as soon as Hawk's guard was down. "I can keep going, man! I can do it!" He tried to get to his feet, only to sit down hard again.

Volk was silent a moment, then he muttered, "Here." He grasped Hawk's upper arms and stood, pulling the boy up with him. Hawk clutched at the Russian's own arms a moment, steadying himself.

"Why don't we call it a tie, all right?" Volk grumbled. "You are injured." Hawk started to protest, until Volk added, "And if you break any of my mechanical parts, it will take that mad Viking 'doctor' a full year to get around to making me new ones. I don't have that kind of time to spare."

"Damn straight I could break them," Hawk advised him, feeling that a continued show of bravado was in his best interests. "But. . . a tie sounds like a good idea." He looked up at Volk, finding a grin breaking out over his own face. _I __**did**__ do some damage. . . and he really __**was**__ worried about me. _ "And don't you think that means I'm giving up!" he added for good measure. "I'm _totally_ up for a rematch. I'll take you on anytime. . . ."

"All right, little one," Volk said tiredly as he let go of Hawk's arms. The corner of his grizzled mouth turned upward in the faintest of smiles- the first time Hawk had ever seen him with an expression other than a scowl.

Hawk felt his cheeks color in a faint blush at the nickname as he mumbled, "I'm _not_ really that little." _First Glenda calls me "kiddo," and now this. . . ._

Volk ignored the correction. "Now we're _both_ up past curfew." He pointed sternly at Hawk's bed. "Go to sleep. Now." Hawk briefly considered protesting, but he decided it wasn't worth the risk of losing the progress he'd made. And besides. . . he _was_ pretty tired, and his stomach still hurt.

"Okay, okay," he grumbled as he climbed into bed. Volk turned off the light and lay down in silence until Hawk said tentatively, "Good night."

". . . Yes. Good night."

Blaster Keaton soon learned that while Steve might be a great partner to have in the air, he wasn't such good company in the city. London had been the _Goliath_'s first stop, leaving Keaton and Steve most of the day to search for signs of Pandora's invasion. Unfortunately, Steve was more interested in shopping than in work.

"Keaty, look at this!" the Frenchman cried for what felt like the hundredth time. Blaster signed and duly looked in the clothing store window where his partner was pointing.

"Yes, that's a very nice jacket," Blaster said patiently. "But what's this 'Keaty' business?" He cocked an eyebrow at Steve. "No one else has ever called me _that_ before."

Steve shrugged. "I am not _like_ anyone else!" He took Keaton's arm and dragged him on to the next store. "And 'Keaty' sounds much cuter than 'Blaster' anyhow!"

_I just hope he doesn't call me that around Hawk, _Blaster thought as he wandered over to a newsstand while Steve fawned over more clothes. _I'd never hear the end of it!_ To his own surprise though, Blaster didn't really mind the nickname- or the fact that his partner had virtually attached himself to Blaster at the hip. It was flattering to have an elegant star so fond of him (even if everyone else in Project Blue thought said star was an arrogant narcissist).

Besides, to be honest, he had always liked Steve. They had flown one mission together three years ago, during Fata Morgana's second strike against Earth. Back then, Blaster had found Steve to be dependable and brave in battle, no matter what he was like as a spoiled, flighty civilian. Whenever he was tempted to dismiss the Frenchman as useless, Blaster reminded himself of what Steve was like in the air.

_No one else sees him that way, though_, thought Blaster as he stared at a rack of magazines without seeing it. _And Hawk already can't stand him._ It was plain from the younger Keaton's attitude that he was highly suspicious of Steve's almost flirtatious behavior toward Blaster.

_But he's __**not**__ flirting with me,_ Blaster tried to tell himself. _It's just the way he-_

"Keaty-!" Steve's voice broke into Blaster's thoughts. "Come look at this!"

"Steve!" Blaster groaned, irritated that Steve himself had interrupted Blaster's mental defense of him. "Give it a rest! We're not here to shop." He looked down to find Steve at his side, looking up at him with a wounded expression.

"I just wanted you to see this!" the Frenchman said in a huff, holding up a tabloid newspaper. "You do not have to. . . eat my head off!"

"You mean, _bite_ your head off," Blaster muttered, taking the tabloid from him. "What is this, anyway?"

"_Ceçi_." Steve pointed a long finger at a photograph on the cover, under the headline "ANGEL OF STONEHENGE." "River told us to look for religious sightings, did he not?" Steve still sounded angry, but Blaster had a feeling that he was only trying to mask his hurt feelings.

"Yeah, he did," mumbled Blaster. He glanced at the photo, then blinked and stared more closely. It showed what resembled a crop circle trampled into the grass in the middle of Stonehenge's ring of crumbling monoliths. However, the pattern was not geometrical in the least: it looked for all the world like a majestic, four-armed angel- and Keaton had seen it before.

"Daio Ika," he whispered, then he raised his eyes to meet Steve's emerald gaze. "Uh, Steve. . . I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was looking right at the magazines, and I didn't even notice this. . . ."

Steve's face melted into a smile at the apology. "It is okay. But I am right- it is a sign from Fata Morgana?"

"Yes." Keaton looked down again at the photo, studying it. "I fought something like it three years ago, in their third attack." He fumbled in his pocket for some pounds to purchase the tabloid. "Come on, let's take this back to the base and see if we can get any information from it."

"No more shopping then?" Steve asked teasingly; apparently, all was forgiven as far as he was concerned.

Blaster had to chuckle at his playful expression. "Maybe later."

Back at Project Blue's base near Oxford, Blaster and Steve sat on Keaton's bed, reading the admittedly far-fetched article.

"So this angel symbol appeared in the grass there two days ago," Blaster murmured as he read.

"Quite a strange angel," Steve sniffed. "Why so many arms?"

"Maybe it's a cherub," Blaster suggested. "They're supposed to be weird looking, lots of extra body parts. Anyway, all these people have gone out there to see it, and it hasn't hurt anyone so far. But the last time I saw that image. . . ." He pulled out the dossier Lord River-N-White had given him on Fata Morgana and flipped to the page labeled "Daio Ika."

"Keaty, that is a squid," Steve said flatly as he looked down at the photographs in the file. "Two of them, in fact."

"They're both the same creature," Blaster explained. "The teal one is its weaker form; it turns pink when it powers up." He pointed to the photograph of a giant pink squid, incongruously sprawled in the sands of a desert. "And _this_ happens. Look at its. . . uh forehead."

Steve squinted at the darker pink pattern on the squid's mantle, then drew in a sharp breath. "It is the same angel!" He snatched up the page and held it up close to his face. "_Quel que chose!_ Is it a. . . a tattoo? And look, it has an eyeball design beneath it!"

"Yes. I don't know what either symbol means." Blaster gently tugged the file out of Steve's hand to look at the photos again. "Lots of members of both Fata Morgana and the Hildroid have eyeball markings, so maybe it's some kind of insignia. I don't think that really matters right now though, since there's not an eyeball out there in the grass. The angel is what's important."

"_Oui_. . . ." Steve sat still for a moment, thoughtfully biting his lower lip. "Do you think the angel at Stonehenge means that this. . . this Daio Ika will attack there?"

"I'm afraid it might. When I saw it last time, in the desert in Africa, this angel pattern appeared in the sand right before Daio Ika attacked me." Keaton sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I think we should fly out to Stonehenge tomorrow and investigate it."

Steve paused, then laid his hand on top of Blaster's. "_Can_ it wait until tomorrow? What if it attacks the people there before we arrive?"

"Uh, w-well," Blaster stammered, a little flustered at Steve's touch. "It was almost dark when we got back here to the base, and they close the park at Stonehenge during the night. No one will be there until tomorrow morning, and we can fly out there first thing to beat the crowd." He shrugged. "And besides, if it's been there for two days without doing anything. . . ."

"Euh, I guess you are right. . . it will wait for us." Steve smirked, but the words gave Blaster a chill. _He's right- it didn't attack last time either until I was right up on it. What if it __**is**__ waiting for us?_ He couldn't imagine why Daio Ika would hold off on its attack until there was someone there to oppose it- but then, who _could _understand Fata Morgana's motives?

"Come on, it's almost time for dinner," Blaster said aloud, trying to distract himself from the creepy thought of an angelic squid biding its time until they showed up. "Then I want some sleep- I don't know about you, but my bed on the _Goliath_ wasn't too comfortable last night."

"You have a point." Steve let go of his hand and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of his uniform. "Mine was hardly like the feather beds I am used to."

"I don't know; you were sleeping pretty well this morning when you were _supposed_ to be at breakfast," Blaster teased as they headed for the mess hall. Steve turned his pointed nose up in the air haughtily, even as he smiled.

"You have no idea how hard a star like myself must work!"


	7. Chapter 7

Project Blue had no active base in India near the ruins where Mars-Vesta had last been encountered; therefore, Chaika spent an extremely uncomfortable night camping out with Pooshika and Whity. The temperature was pleasant enough after the sun set, but the hour before was miserable, and Chaika felt the heat already building when she awoke the next morning.

"I miss Russia," Pooshika whined as she shoved her sleeping bag back into their IL-102. "At least it wasn't sweltering there!"

"Just a few days ago, you were complaining about the cold," muttered Chaika. "Make up your mind!"

"Aren't you two ready yet?" Whity chirped at them from his YF-23. (Chaika didn't know just how the dolphin had managed to get his flippers on an American prototype fighter, but then, she didn't know how he managed to fly it either.) "I'm ready to go!"

"Yes, yes, we're ready," Pooshika called back, making a face at him. "At least we _do_ get an exciting mission," she said to Chaika more cheerfully once they were in their cockpit. "All the others are just sitting around waiting for Fata Morgana to show up!"

Chaika secretly wouldn't have minded that in the least; while she loved flying, she wasn't crazy about the actual fighting part of the whole business. "I just feel sorry for Hawk Keaton," she murmured. "Imagine having to practice maneuvers with _Volk _in Siberia!"

"That _really_ makes me wish I were in Russia!" Pooshika grinned.

"Pooshika!" As they took to the air, following Whity closely, Chaika squinted at the IL-102's monitors, hoping that she would recognize Mars-Vesta on her radar if she saw it. "I don't know what you see in that man! He's so cold!"

"Ooh, Pooshika, you got a thing for Volk?" Whity's chuckle came in over the girls' radio, making them both jump.

"Wh-whity, you bad dolphin! You shouldn't eavesdrop on us!" Pooshika cried, blushing even though Chaika had a feeling she welcomed the attention.

"Then you shouldn't leave your radio on!" the dolphin squeaked indignantly. "What about you, Chayushka? Don't tell me you have a crush on Mr. Personality too."

This time Chaika was the one to blush at the affectionate form of her name. "D-don't call me that!" she snapped. "And no, Volk is far too old for us! Plus he's rude, and you know what the rumor is about his past!"

"Yeah, that he used to be part of Fata Morgana. Hmph!" Whity made a derisive noise. "I'm surprised old River trusts him at all!"

"Don't talk about Volk like that!" Pooshika defended her love interest with all the fire of her exuberant personality. "Besides, we're not here to chat- we have to look for Mars-Vesta!" She duly leaned forward to look out the window at the wilderness and ruins below them.

Whity gave a chortle but relented. "Okay, why don't we split up? We're more likely to find it faster if we can cover more ground. I'll fly around the back of the ruins, and you girls make a few passes around here." The YF-23 banked to the left as Whity flew off to patrol the northern area of the temple.

"Just stay in contact!" Chaika radioed, trying not to worry. She didn't like having the dolphin out of sight: _What if either of us actually __**finds**__ Mars-Vesta? Can we take it on alone? Can Whity?_ As much as she pretended to be annoyed with their cetacean partner, she was actually more fond of him than she was of most people. _If anything happens to him-!_

"Chaika, is that Whity coming back?" Pooshika pointed through the window at an airplane circling them, seemingly out of nowhere. "I _think_ it's a YF-23. . . ."

"How'd he get turned around so quickly?" Chaika looked from the window to her monitors and back again. "Pooshika, what if it's-"

"He's shooting at us!" Pooshika suddenly wailed; sure enough, Chaika heard a loud "ping" as a bullet grazed the side of their plane.

"That can't be Whity!" Chaika evaded as best she could, radioing the dolphin at the same time. "Whity! Whity, we need you! Mars-Vesta, it- it looks like your plane!"

"I'm coming!" Whity responded.

"Pooshika, fire at it!" Chaika cried as she struggled to steer the plane so that they could keep the strange craft in sight while avoiding its attacks.

"So the dossier was right- it _is_ a shape shifter!" Pooshika fired the IL-102's Rocket Shot at the enemy plane, peppering it with artillery. As Chaika made a close pass at it, she realized that it was not, after all, an exact match for Whity's craft. Mars-Vesta was a little larger, making it seem somewhat ungainly and awkward, and it was painted in tones of grey instead of the silvery-blue of Whity's YF-23.

"It's not a perfect mimic," Chaika pointed out while Pooshika let loose another barrage of Rocket Shot.

"Yeah!" Whity replied over the radio. "My plane is _much_ better-looking!" Chaika could now see the real YF-23 as well both on the radar and out the window while the slightly smaller plane circled Mars-Vesta. "Keep firing! Don't let up!"

"I'm not, I'm not!" Pooshika growled. "Why don't _you_ help, dolphin boy?" She had barely finished speaking when a rush of water broke loose from the YF-23- Whity's bomb, the Screw Shot. True to its name, it spiraled toward Mars-Vesta, forming a point that hit the shape shifter in a blast that drove it backwards in the air.

"Yahoo!" squealed Whity as he wheeled around his plane's doppelganger. Mars-Vesta reeled for another moment, then steadied itself with a wobble of its wings. Its image flickered on Chaika's radar but then grew strong again- and when she looked up, the imitation YF-23 was gone, replaced with something she could not at first identify.

"What _is_ that?" cried Pooshika as she stared at the window. "A. . . a _fish_?" Sure enough, Mars-Vesta had taken a shape that resembled a giant fish, flat and almost circular in shape. Like the fake plane before it, the fish was an other-worldly shade of grey. It looked rather silly, especially as its fins seemed too small for its huge body, but Chaika ceased to care about its appearance once it started spitting fireballs at Whity's plane. Its round body rotated to follow the dolphin's flight path.

"It doesn't matter _what_ it is- it's hit Whity!" Chaika yelled as she banked the IL-102 back towards Mars-Vesta. "Bomb it, Pooshika!" Pooshika fired the IL-102's own Polish Napalm bomb at their attacker as Whity started firing his Aqua Shot artillery, water-based like his bomb, back at the fish.

"I'm okay!" the dolphin squeaked over the radio. "Just pissed off that it attacked me- we sea creatures should stick together!"

"Watch your language, Whity!" Chaika scolded, even as she grinned in relief to know that he was safe.

"Oh yeah? Look at the stuff coming out of _its _mouth, Chayushka!" Whity bantered back, referring to the missiles issuing from Mars-Vesta's gaping mouth (which, nevertheless, seemed awfully tiny in relation to its body). Whity set off another Screw Shot, drilling Mars-Vesta in its broad side. It flickered again, proving that the blip it had made on the radar had not been a malfunction of the equipment: Chaika, looking straight at Mars-Vesta this time, realized that the whole creature seemed to blink in and out of existence for an instant. Its shape changed once more, this time into an imperfect, bulky and grey-scale copy of the twins' plane. However, the craft kept wobbling heavily, unable to steady itself.

"It's almost done for!" Whity called. "Give it another blast, girls!" Chaika aimed the nose of the IL-102 directly at Mars-Vesta, then motioned for Pooshika to fire.

"Got it!" both girls cried at once as their napalm blasted the doppelganger of their plane. Mars-Vesta made a roaring sound much more animal than mechanical and flickered wildly, then it shifted shape again. Chaika and Whity kept circling it, the girl afraid that it might renew its attack, but its new form seemed incapable of firing. This form was large and ovoid, almost shaped like a giant egg made of speckled, grey stone. From the center of its widest part glared a vertical eye with a vividly red iris.

"That's its true form according to the dossier!" Whity radioed. "That means we've defeated it!"

Chaika was still unsure until cracks appeared in Mars-Vesta, traveling up the length of its body to its narrow tip. Its eye widened in an uncannily accurate expression of fear and pain, making Chaika cringe. _And that's why I hate fighting,_ she thought. _Sometimes you have to see what happens when you win. . . ._

Mars-Vesta broke into a thousand jagged pieces with a sharp crack that the girls heard clearly even inside their plane, just as they had the creature's roar. As the egg shape shattered, the pieces rained down into the trees and ruins below them.

"Let's get out of here," Chaika mumbled into the radio. "We need to report to the _Goliath_."

"Right. Back to the camp site!" Whity chortled, apparently experiencing none of her sympathy for their opponent.

After landing their planes in the same location as the previous night- really the only place around with enough taxiing room for two aircraft- Chaika and Pooshika stood below the cockpit of Whity's YF-23 to listen as he radioed Glenda back on the _Goliath_.

"We've located and destroyed Mars-Vesta," the dolphin told headquarters proudly, then paused to listen. "Yes, it _is_ a shape-shifter," he responded to an apparent question from Glenda. "It took the form of both our planes, as well as that of a mola mola. . . . . It's a _fish_, Glenda. Don't you humans pay _any _attention to the ocean? No, I _don't_ know why it wanted to be a fish. And _yes_, it's 'dead.' It blew up." He broke off and leaned over the side of the cockpit, rolling his eyes at the twins. "I'm on hold- River's telling her something."

"Oh, what now?" fretted Chaika. Pooshika made a face at her.

"Yes, of course I'm still here," Whity squeaked into the radio. "He wants us to _what_? Okay then, commander's orders. . . . We'll call you back to come pick us up when we're through. Over and out!"

"_What_ does he want us to do?" Chaika called up to the dolphin, already dreading the answer. She wanted to get out of the heat (and mosquitoes) of the area as soon as possible.

Whity looked down at them again. "He wants us to go out on foot and bring in any remains of Mars-Vesta we can find."

"_What?_" groaned Pooshika. "What the heck for? It's in a million tiny pieces!"

"Well, as Glenda pointed out, it was in 'a million tiny pieces' the last time we fought it too, but Fata Morgana revived it _somehow_. River doesn't want that happening again. And anyway," Whity added, "maybe _we_ could use it, if it _can_ be fixed."

"I don't want anything to do with it," Chaika shivered. "How are we even going to know how to keep it from. . . going off or whatever it does?"

"River seems to think that Dr. Kowful can figure it out."

Pooshika scowled. "River probably thinks Kowful could defeat Fata Morgana single-handedly, the way he praises that big oaf. Anyway, come on, Whity. . . . If we _have_ to go look for Mars-Vesta, let's get it over with."

"Uh, just a minute." Chaika could tell from the dolphin's hesitant tone that he was about to suggest something they wouldn't like. "I'm not exactly built for trekking through the jungle- and someone needs to stay with the radio."

"You mean you expect us to go find that thing by ourselves?" Pooshika cried.

"Well, you _are_ the ones blessed with legs!" Whity retorted.

"Let's just go, Pooshika," said Chaika, tugging on her sister's arm. She was a bit peeved at Whity herself, but she supposed he had a point: he usually moved on land by wriggling on his belly, which certainly wouldn't be comfortable in the stony ruins of the temple. "The battle site really isn't that far, and I'm sure there won't be much left of Mars-Vesta." _At least, I hope there isn't,_ she added silently.

Pooshika complained heartily as the girls trekked along a pathway leading into the ruins, through the oppressive heat. Chaika was glad that her sister, at least, didn't seem worried that they were going after an enemy that had, to quote a cliché, a nasty habit of surviving. That didn't keep Chaika from fretting about it, though.

However, there was no sign of any danger, not even when they reached the crumbled façade of the temple where the battle had taken place.

"Here's a few pieces of it," Pooshika pointed out as she stooped to pick up a chunk of the mottled, stone-like material. "Hey, it's pretty light!" She held it up easily with one hand, even though it was the size of her two fists put together.

"At least it won't be hard to carry back then." Chaika toed another piece with her boot before picking it up. "And it's all the same- River really _can't_ expect us to bring all the pieces back. Let's just take these and go."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Pooshika teased, shaking her hunk of Mars-Vesta at her sister. "Here we're sent to retrieve an alien weapon, left by 'ancient astronauts,' and you just want to leave."

"It's called having a head on my shoulders," retorted Chaika. "And besides, it might _not_ be an alien weapon. It's been here for millennia, so for all we know, humans created it."

"Or gods," Pooshika suggested, already heading for the path back to their planes despite her "sense of adventure." "This is a temple, remember."

Chaika _really_ didn't want to think about angering some god or another. She started to voice her hope that any god involved wouldn't mind them taking hunks of its weapon, but she stayed silent when she noticed another piece of Mars-Vesta on the edge of the path. Unlike the ragged fragments she and Pooshika carried, this piece was perfectly smooth. In fact, it was like a tiny version of the once egg-shaped weapon, again about the size of her fists.

"Hold on, Pooshika," Chaika called, stooping down to pick up the fragment. "This piece looks kind of stra- _ahhhh_!" She had started to turn the piece of material over in her hands, but she abruptly dropped it to the ground and backed away instead.

"Chaika?" Pooshika spun around and hurried back to her twin. "Are you okay?"

"_L-look at it!_" Chaika wailed, pointing down at the path between them. Pooshika looked, then gave a frightened squeak as she found the remains of Mars-Vesta looking back at her: the small, ovoid fragment bore the same red, vertical eye as its predecessor, only in smaller scale.

"Ewwww," Pooshika muttered after recovering from her initial shock. She nudged Mars-Vesta with her foot, but it didn't respond, only continued to stare upwards. Chaika realized that it probably wasn't really seeing them at all; it seemed to be in a vacant stupor, if it had ever been conscious at all.

_But it __**was**__ conscious, _Chaika thought. _I saw it in pain. . . unless that was just a programmed reaction._ She didn't really believe that, though; why would anyone, alien or god or ancient human, program a weapon to show pain when it was destroyed?

"We should take it with us," Pooshika murmured after a moment of studying Mars-Vesta. "River will _love _it if we bring him _this_. Not to mention how excited Kowful will be."

"_If_ it doesn't kill us en route!" snapped Chaika. "This is like its- its _head_ or something! It's probably what survived the first time we tried to destroy it. "

"But something had to reactivate it back then," Pooshika argued. "I think it's harmless until Pandora or whoever comes along and. . . and fixes it. And if we leave it here, they could just come back and fire it up again." To Chaika's horror, her sister bent and picked up Mars-Vesta, shaking it a little. "See, it didn't even blink! It's not awake at all."

"Pooshika-" Chaika wailed, but her twin had already turned and started back for their planes.

"You worry too much!" Pooshika said over her shoulder. "Tell you what- we'll show it to Whity and see what he thinks. If he says we should leave it behind, we will."

Chaika knew perfectly well that the carefree, adventurous dolphin would want to take Mars-Vesta with them. She sighed and followed her sister reluctantly, still carrying her piece of the weapon's larger "body." _I just hope to God- or whoever created this thing- that Pooshika's right. . . ._


	8. Chapter 8

Hawk did not say he was sorry for his earlier behavior towards Volk or for hurting him- but then, neither did Volk. Still, Hawk made an effort to behave civilly on their second day of training together, and though they still rarely spoke to one another, he tried to be polite. Amazingly, Volk did too. He seemed to respect Hawk a little more- maybe because Hawk had put up a good fight, or maybe because he knew enough to back down at the right time. Whatever Volk's reasons, during their morning training exercises, Hawk took the Russian's advice as gracefully as he could.

That afternoon, Volk took Hawk out to navigate a Military Training Route, a 160-kilometer corridor through which they had to fly at a low altitude as practice in avoiding enemy radar. The MTR ran along the edge of the taiga, using trees as natural corridor walls; a sixteen-kilometer-wide strip of trees had been artificially cleared by Project Blue along its length a couple years ago.

"Poor trees," Hawk muttered over his radio as they neared the corridor. To him, the strip of cleared land looked damaged and unnatural, like the scars across Volk's nose and under his remaining eye.

"What are you on about now?" Volk muttered, his deep voice growling into Hawk's ears through his headphones. Hawk jumped a little; he had forgotten that his radio was on. . . and he was a little surprised that he had connected the frozen land so closely to his partner's face.

"How many trees did Project Blue cut down if this thing is as long as you say it is?" Hawk asked, figuring he had better say something if he didn't want Volk thinking the crazy American kid was talking to himself. "Killing all of 'em just so we can train. . . ."

"Considering that _all_ the trees on Earth would be dead if Fata Morgana had their way," snarled Volk, "it is a small sacrifice."

Hawk scowled as Volk aligned the Hokum with the MTR and lowered his altitude to enter in the lead. _So much for being nice to me_, Hawk thought, trailing behind the Russian into the corridor. Hawk was tempted to turn off his radio in retaliation, but that was about as against the rules as he could get- and there was always the chance that one of them would need the other.

Both men remained silent as they ran the arboreal gauntlet. Hawk kept his eyes focused on the chopper before him as much as he did his instrument panel in order to judge the proper speed and altitude. However, when they were nearly halfway through the corridor, something else caught Hawk's eye: the movement of something dark high in the sky, far above the Hokum. Hawk glanced up but saw nothing there.

He brought his eyes back down to Volk's helicopter, but only for a moment before he saw the almost ghostly movement again. Hawk looked again, glaring, but his frown melted into a gape of amazement when, this time, the source of the disturbance remained in his field of vision.

_It's a flying saucer!_ Hawk marveled. _A UFO, just like in the movies!_ It hovered high above them, a round, black, disc-shaped craft with red lights spaced about its perimeter.

"Hey Volk, d'you see _that_?" he radioed.

"Do I see what?" growled Volk in response. "You should not be seeing anything but the back of my helicopter and the trees you are so concerned with."

Hawk tried to think of a biting reply as he craned his neck to follow the UFO's jerky movements. It darted back towards Hawk until it was hovering directly over his Tomcat; Hawk had to look straight up to see it, trading glances between it and the Hokum to stay on course. He knew that the saucer would be out of Volk's line of vision now, unless the Russian turned his helicopter around.

Finally, Hawk gave up on trying to insult Volk and just radioed, "It's right above me now. It's-" He broke off in a choked gasp as a lime-green glow suddenly appeared in the center of the saucer's underside.

"Spit it out!" Volk snapped, but Hawk scarcely heard him. Instead, he was focused on the UFO and the beam which now emanated from its center, speeding straight down towards his plane. A hundred thoughts chased each other through Hawk's mind, ranging from _I'm about to be abducted_ to _It's going to kill me_- but the beam realized none of them. Instead, it pierced straight through the dome of Hawk's cockpit without so much as scratching it, grazed the boy's outer left thigh, and disappeared into the floor of the Tomcat.

Hawk screeched at the sensation in his leg, something like fire and needles combined into one searing pain. Every science fiction story and movie he had ever encountered held that laser beams cauterized wounds, but this one did not; blood welled from the injury and soaked through his khakis immediately- even though the fabric was not torn or damaged in any way.

The beam dissipated almost instantly. Hawk tossed his head wildly upward for a moment to find no sign of the saucer left above him. That shock, combined with the pain in his leg and the fear that still gripped him, overrode any thoughts of controlling his plane. Hawk didn't even notice it listing to the right until it was too late to correct the Tomcat's path.

"Mayday mayday mayday!" Hawk cried into his microphone, gripping his plane's controls as the trees and snow-covered ground spun outside his windows. He tried to let his unconscious mind take control of the plane, having been taught by Blaster long ago that in an emergency, the subconscious always knew much better what to do than the panicked conscious brain. Anyway, his conscious brain was too busy wailing over the radio to be much help. "_Vooollllk!_"

When it was all over, Hawk was shrouded in darkness but alive- he knew that much from the searing ache in his leg and the sound of his own gasping breath. Then he realized that it was dark only because his eyes were closed; opening them flooded his vision with the glaring brightness of snow all around the cockpit. The plane had landed right side up, and green-black trees loomed over him.

"Hawk!" Volk's accented voice sounded in his headphones. "What happened? _Hawk_!" Hawk knew he should respond, but he couldn't seem to find the energy to speak. _What's it to him anyway?_ Hawk thought tiredly. _He won't believe me if I tell him what happened-instead he'll yell at me for wrecking my plane. If he doesn't just leave me here._

The thought of his poor plane was what finally drove Hawk to move. He turned his head cautiously then when he found no pain in his neck, Hawk looked around the cockpit. Amazingly, there was no real damage. Hawk fumbled at the catches of his harness and released himself, then opened the cockpit. He started to stand before he gasped at the pain in his leg and sat down hard again.

It was the only thing that hurt badly, although Hawk's shoulders and chest ached faintly where the harness had held them. _And it doesn't matter how much it hurts,_ Hawk thought. _I've got to get out and see where I am! Besides, Blaster went through a lot worse than this. . . I can do anything he can!_

The boy gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand, resolutely not looking down at his injury. Hawk climbed out of the cockpit, hauling himself up by his arms, then slid down the side of the plane to the ground, leaning heavily against the riveted metal of his Tomcat. Even the slight jolt of his foot hitting the ground caused a terrible pain, and Hawk groaned as he sank down into the snow.

"Hawk!" Hawk dragged open his eyes again at the sound of his name, squinting against the brightness of the snow. Volk was crouched beside him, the Russian's Hokum landed a good distance behind him in the middle of the corridor. _I must have hit the trees at the edge of the MTR,_ Hawk realized.

"Hawk, where are you hurt?" Volk persisted.

"Volk?" Hawk peered up at his partner dizzily. "I thought. . . you wouldn't come back for me. . . ."

Volk stared at him, his single grey eye widening in true surprise. "What? Of course I would- you are my partner!" Then the eye narrowed again with impatience. "Now tell me where you are hurt! I cannot move you until I know."

"My left thigh. . . ." Hawk twisted to look down at his leg; he felt the blood drain from his face when he saw the crimson-stained fabric of his pants. "Oh God, I-I'm still bleeding!"

"I know," Volk said with a hint of wryness that was surprisingly comforting to Hawk. _I must not be hurt very bad,_ Hawk realized. _He doesn't seem so worried about me now_. "Does anything else hurt?"

"N-no, I. . . I'm just cold," Hawk mumbled.

"Of course you are cold: you are lying in the snow. Come on, you must stand up." Volk slid an arm under Hawk's back and started lifting him to his feet. Hawk did all right until he tried to put weight on his bloody leg; the sharp burst of pain he felt made him yelp and collapse against the side of his plane. He looked down to see drops of his own blood dotting the snow in little crimson pits around his leg.

Volk looked too, then bent at his knees to brace one arm against the backs of Hawk's thighs with the other arm along his lower back. In a swift motion, he stood, picking Hawk up off the ground.

"Ack!" Hawk yelped; he flung his arms around Volk's neck, holding on for dear life as he found the ground suddenly very far below him. "Y-you don't have to _carry_ me-"

"I will freeze to death before you hobble all the way back to my helicopter," Volk retorted. "This is quicker."

Volk strode quickly across the snow to his Hokum, where Hawk realized there was a slight problem: the attack chopper was only made to seat one. He guessed that they _could_ both cram themselves into the cockpit, but there would only be one place for Hawk to sit: on Volk's lap.

"Uh, maybe we should just radio for help," Hawk suggested. "Someone will have to get my plane anyway- if it's even still flyable." He looked worriedly over Volk's broad shoulder at his Tomcat, driven nose-first into the trees.

"Your plane is fine," Volk said stiffly. "I believe the damage is purely cosmetic- as with you."

"Hey, my leg isn't cosmetic!" Hawk retorted, squirming.

"It's still attached, isn't it?" snapped Volk as he heaved Hawk up into the chopper. Remembering Volk's own prosthetic foot, Hawk decided to quit complaining at that point. "Lean forward so I can get in," Volk went on. Hawk obeyed, bracing himself against the control panel as the tall Russian climbed in behind him, straddling the seat until he was able to lower himself into it.

"Now, sit," Volk ordered. When Hawk hesitated, Volk grasped his waist and pulled him downward until Hawk was seated in his lap and Volk could close the cockpit.

"C-can you fly like this?" Hawk stammered, feeling like a little kid sent to visit a terribly stern Russian Santa Claus. He tried to turn to look at Volk, but there wasn't really enough room.

"If you can manage to hold still long enough," Volk snarled. He reached his arms around Hawk to the Hokum's controls and fired the helicopter up. "Just try not to move."

"Okay, okay." Hawk slumped miserably in the Russian's lap, forced to lean back against Volk's chest as the older man lifted the helicopter out of the snow and flew back through the corridor towards base. _So much for him respecting me after __**this**__, _Hawk thought with a little sigh he couldn't mask. _Especially when I tell him that a UFO zapped me in the leg and made me crash my plane- without so much as tearing my pants._ Still, he felt a bit better whenever he remembered Volk's words: "You are my partner."

The Hokum reached Project Blue's base surprisingly quickly, where they were met with a stretcher and the base's single medic thanks to Volk radioing ahead to apprise the command center of what had happened. Volk lifted Hawk onto the stretcher, then helped the medic wheel it back to the small room that served as both clinic and operating room. There, Volk transferred Hawk to the examining table and stood by the wall, arms folded.

"You don't have to stay," the medic, a slightly nerdy-looking guy who strongly resembled a young Roddy McDowall, said to Volk. He spoke in a somewhat disparaging tone- until Volk turned a grey glare on him. "Suit yourself," muttered the medic as he turned back to Hawk. He advanced on the boy with an enormous pair of scissors that made Hawk's eyes widen as he edged away.

"What are you gonna do with _those_?"

"I have to cut your pants off to get to the wound," "Roddy" said with growing impatience, though his expression softened to curiosity as he looked down at Hawk's leg. "Amazing that they aren't torn though. What made this injury?"

"I- you can't ruin my pants!" Hawk snapped. "They were expensive!"

"I think _you've_ taken care of ruining them," the medic said drily, gesturing to the bloody fabric. "This won't come out, believe me."

"Okay, fine," Hawk sulked in his best "but I'm not going to like it" tone, folding his arms.

"If you insist upon staying," the medic said acidly to Volk as he started cutting through Hawk's khakis at the waistband, "make yourself useful by removing his boots and socks." Soon Hawk found himself pants-less and in his bare feet, although Roddy had had the decency to leave his boxer shorts alone.

"Goodness," murmured the medic as he bent over Hawk's wounded leg. "This is quite a deep cut- clean edges though. Did you injure yourself on something in your plane?"

"I. . . I don't know," Hawk lied, not about to tell Dr. McDowall that a UFO had shot him. "I kind of lost track once the plane got out of control."

"Not uncommon." The medic turned to a cabinet which, when Hawk peered over his shoulder, proved to be full of an unnerving number of syringes. "You're going to need a few stitches, so I'll give you a local. After that, you won't feel anything for a while."

"Good," Hawk muttered. He looked at Volk and found the Russian watching him expressionlessly. Hawk suddenly had the feeling that Volk didn't believe for a minute that Hawk didn't know what had injured him. _I'll probably catch it from him later,_ Hawk thought, _but at least he's keeping quiet now._

Hawk hardly felt the injection of local anesthetic past the pain of the cut in his thigh. He made himself look down once at the wound, which was surprisingly deep, then he resolutely looked away while the medic cleaned and sewed it up. Once the throbbing of his leg faded thanks to the anesthetic, Hawk felt no pain; however, he could still feel pressure as the needle pierced his skin and the nylon thread passed through it. The sensation of the thread moving through his flesh like it was so much fabric was creepy, and Hawk decided he almost preferred pain.

"There," the medic finally said as he shoved his tray of instruments aside. "Leave those in for ten days. I'll take them out if you're still here, but Kowful can do it if you're back on the _Goliath_ by then."

"Great," muttered Hawk, cringing at the thought of Kowful getting anywhere near him with a pair of scissors. Hawk shifted his leg tentatively, then relaxed when he still felt no pain.

"No real damage done," Roddy added as Hawk swung his legs off the table and stood. "You'll probably have a light scar there though."

"Cool!" Hawk enthused, imagining getting to boast that he had a scar from a UFO.

"Hmph." Volk pushed himself off of the wall and stalked to the door. "Come on. We will have to report your injury to _Goliath_ and find out if River wants you to continue training."

"The kid shouldn't have any problem with training. It's really not a serious wound," Roddy called after Volk, but the Russian ignored him as he left the room.

"Uh, thanks," Hawk mumbled reluctantly as he collected his socks and boots, then followed Volk to the door.

"No problem. Just don't let him work you too hard," the medic replied with a startling grin. "Wouldn't want it to open back up again."

"I'll make sure _that_ doesn't happen," Hawk winced. He caught up with Volk halfway down the hall and followed him to the control room, where the Russian contacted Glenda with a terse report that Hawk had crashed his plane and sustained a minor injury.

"I believe the F-14B is still flyable," Volk added. "A team from the base is retrieving it now."

"Hold for orders," Glenda told them, and they waited in silence for her to relay Lord River-N-White's decision. Hawk stared down at his bare knees and the goosebumps that had formed on his legs. _He should have at least let me put on some pants before he told them all how I screwed up._

"River says you may continue your training," Glenda reported a moment later. Hawk was a little disappointed but mostly relieved: he wasn't thrilled about having to keep training, but at least they wouldn't be called back to the _Goliath_ because of him.

After their communication ended, Hawk went back to their cabin without waiting to see if Volk had another order for him. The Russian followed him silently, however, and sat on his bed as Hawk pulled on some sweatpants, breathing a sigh of relief as the warmth enveloped his legs. Hawk collapsed on his own bed to pull his socks back on.

"Hawk," Volk said flatly. Hawk looked up to find the Russian gazing at him with both his grey organic eye and the red mechanical one. "Tell me what really happened."

Hawk turned his eyes down again, finding it easier to focus on his stocking feet. "You won't believe me."

"I believe even less that you don't know how your leg was injured," snapped Volk. "River is going to ask how it occurred when we return to the _Goliath_. Are you going to tell him that you lost control of your plane for no reason and cut your thigh on nothing?"

"I didn't lose control for no reason!" Hawk nearly yelled, glaring at his feet. "Just because you didn't see it-"

"Tell me what you saw!"

"It was a UFO, okay?" Hawk cried, looking back up at Volk to judge his reaction. "A- a flying saucer! I saw it above my plane, and I tried to tell you- but then it. . . it shot me!" Volk's expression did not change from its irritated glare. No sign of disbelief or surprise- absolutely nothing.

"No, I did not see it," Volk said flatly. "What did it look like?"

"It was round and black," said Hawk defensively, then he relented and tried to calm down. "Well, it was more of a dark grey, not completely black. And it had these red lights around its edges. . . uh, horizontal lights, like parallel with the edge. I saw it right above me, so I guess you couldn't have seen it."

"And how did it injure you?" Again, there was no change of expression.

"There was a green light in the middle of it, and it came down kind of like a. . . a laser beam. It hit the side of my thigh, but. . . ." Hawk gulped, himself finding this part harder to believe than the appearance of a flying saucer. "But it didn't damage anything but _me_. It went right through my plane and my- uh, my pants and didn't leave a mark. But my leg. . . ."

Volk only nodded curtly. "When did you lose control of your plane?"

"After that. That- that was my fault. I panicked." Hawk felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at admitting his mistake, but it wouldn't be fair to try to cover it up. Volk would probably know anyhow; Hawk was starting to feel like that mechanical eye of his could see straight into Hawk's brain.

"Hm." Volk said nothing more than that; when Hawk looked at him again, the stern gaze was turned away from him and down at the floor.

"Do. . . do you think it could be Fata Morgana?" Hawk asked hesitantly. That question seemed more politic than "Do you believe me?" But Volk didn't answer him anyway. Instead, the Russian stood and went to the door.

"I am going back to finish running the MTR," Volk said brusquely over his shoulder. "You stay off that leg until dinner."

"_You're_ going to run it?" Hawk blurted out. "But. . . why? _You_ don't need the training!"

"A pilot can always benefit from more training." Volk half-turned to focus his mismatched gaze on Hawk as he added scornfully, "Unless you need me to babysit you."

"Go on then!" Hawk snapped, flushing angrily. "Being around _you_ would probably make it worse!"

"Hmph." Volk stalked out of the door, slamming it behind him. Hawk knew the Russian didn't really deserve his last comment, but something about Volk still overrode what better judgment Hawk possessed.

_Why does he make me so angry sometimes?_ Hawk wondered as he picked up his iPod and lay back on the bed. _Even though I want him to like me. . . ._ Hawk had to admit that was true: he _did _want Volk's approval.

By the time Hawk went to the mess hall for dinner that evening, the anesthetic had worn off, and his leg had begun to hurt once more. Hawk stopped by the medic's office to get some aspirin for the pain, but that didn't help fast enough for Hawk's tastes. He had just sat down with his meal- another dismal-looking bowl of stew- when Volk stalked in.

"How did the MTR go?" Hawk asked timidly when the Russian sat down across from him with his own tray.

"Fine," Volk replied curtly. He chewed on a cracker, then glanced at Hawk. "How's the leg?"

"It's fine. No problems." Not the whole truth since the cut was throbbing, but Hawk wasn't about to start complaining.

"I checked on your plane when I got in," Volk added after a few moments. "It _is_ still flyable."

"Thanks," Hawk mumbled. He swallowed hard and went on, "For everything. I mean for. . . taking care of me and all."

"You're welcome," muttered Volk.

Hawk tried to think of something else to say to continue the conversation, such that it was, but he was distracted by movement at the entrance to the mess hall. He looked over Volk's shoulder to find the door swinging open, pushed by a tall, dark-haired man wearing a formal suit- _startlingly_ formal in the military environment of the base.

"Who's that?" Hawk asked as he squinted at the man. Volk swallowed the bite he was chewing, then turned to look over his shoulder. At that point, Hawk's attention was completely diverted from the stranger: instead, he found himself staring at Volk. The Russian's spoon had clattered to the table as soon as he saw the man in the doorway, and although Hawk could only see Volk's mechanical eye, pure fury was evident in the tensing of his unshaven jaw.

"Volk? Do you know him?" Volk ignored him and fairly leapt to his feet, standing directly in front of Hawk and blocking his view of the newcomer. Hawk glared and stood as well, moving beside Volk where he could see.

"Stay back!" Volk snarled, his large hand darting back and shoving Hawk roughly behind him.

"Hey!" Hawk snapped, giving Volk's shoulder a retaliatory push. Volk again ignored him though, and Hawk was left to look over his shoulder at the strange man now walking towards them. He was fairly handsome, with coarse black hair swept back from a low widow's peak. His eyes were narrow and dark, his nose rather large but with a sharp point, and his eyebrows heavy.

"Volk," he said as he stopped several yards away from them, his weight resting on one foot and his arms casually at his sides. _Do they know each other?_ Hawk wondered again, _Or is he only repeating Volk's name from me?_

Then Volk surprised him by grasping something and shoving it out of the confines of his cloak; leaning to one side, Hawk was able to see that it was some kind of gun.

"How did you get in here?" Volk growled.

The man ignored Volk's question and instead turned his dark gaze to Hawk. "And just who is this?" he asked. His voice was low but not especially deep; it was also heavily accented with what Hawk thought might be Italian. "You work with a partner now?"

Volk lifted his arm woodenly, aiming the muzzle of his gun at the stranger. "Tell me how you got in, before I obliterate you."

The man snorted derisively. "You are the ones who will be obliterated- you and the rest of your pathetic peace-keeping force, if you continue to oppose Fata Morgana."

"You've forgotten," Volk retorted, "that I am the man who cannot die." Hawk had heard that nickname before for Volk- everyone in Project Blue had- but it somehow sounded terrifying coming from Volk's own lips.

"Maybe so," returned the man as he looked back at Hawk once more. "But what about your partner? Can _he_ die?" After that, Hawk only had an instant to gape at the dark-haired man before Volk fired his gun, smashing the stranger's skull.

"V-volk!" Hawk yelped, more stunned by what appeared to be cold-blooded murder than by the stranger's obscure threat. The man fell to the ground, limbs twitching, as Volk hid his gun back in the recesses of his cloak. The Russian stalked over to the fallen stranger, leaving Hawk no choice but to edge after him.

A wisp of smoke trailed from the man's forehead, but strangely, there was no blood. Hawk's curiosity got the better of his squeamishness, and he crept forward to stand at Volk's side.

"He's. . . he's a robot?" Hawk gasped when he finally got a clear look at the man's wound. From within the round bullet hole, he could see pieces of metal in the stranger's head, lit by the faint sparking of severed wires.

"This one is." Volk suddenly drew back his prosthetic foot and gave the mechanical corpse a vicious kick that sent it flying across the mess hall and careening into the wall beside the door. "Unfortunately," Volk went on in a growling tone no louder than before, "the real one is human and still alive." He suddenly spun to face Hawk, looking down at him with the same seething anger the boy had seen in his clenched jaw. Hawk cringed, even though he knew the fury wasn't directed at him.

"Hawk. . . ." Volk blinked his organic eye slowly, apparently fighting to get control of himself. Finally, his jaw relaxed. "Promise me that if you ever see anyone who looks like that man, you'll stay away from him. Any one you see will likely be a robot clone like this one, but they're just as deadly. And as cruel."

"He's from Fata Morgana, isn't he?" Hawk asked timidly. Everything, all the rumors he had heard about Volk's involvement with the organization, came back to him. Hawk was inclined now to believe all of them.

"Promise me!" Volk growled.

"I promise, all right?" Hawk snapped back. Volk didn't seem bothered by Hawk's tone; he only nodded, then reached out a hand from beneath his cloak. Hawk winced involuntarily, remembering the gun, but Volk's large hand was now empty. He rested it on Hawk's left shoulder, though his eyes were turned to someplace far away over Hawk's head.

Hawk's eyes drifted back to the robot now sprawled in an unnatural pose by the wall. _Maybe he was the one who shot me, _he thought, _from inside that flying saucer. Or maybe it was the. . . the "real one," the original out there somewhere. The one Volk hates so much._ The warmth of the Russian's hand soaked through Hawk's shirt into his skin, very much human despite Volk's mechanical parts.

_Volk's my partner- and if I find that man, I won't stay away from him. I'll- I'll kill him, for whatever he did to make Volk so angry!_ He looked up at Volk to find the Russian's eyes now looking back as if they could read the determination in Hawk's face.

"I don't care what anyone threatens; I'm not giving up on stopping Fata Morgana!" Hawk said, hoping his words would cover up his plans to break the promise he had just made. "No one in Project Blue will!"

Volk sighed, suddenly sounding very tired. "Of course they won't. Now come- we're leaving this base."

"Hunh?" Hawk blinked as Volk dropped his hand from the boy's shoulder. "But what about training? River said-"

"Hang River," Volk declared, turning on his heel and going back to the android's body. "It is not safe here- if one clone found us, more will follow." He knelt and scooped up the body in one arm, throwing it roughly over his shoulder as he stood again. "Radio the _Goliath,_ and ask Glenda to come pick us up. Tell her I said our position is no longer safe here- you can tell her what happened if she insists on knowing, but hopefully she's more sensible than to waste our time."

"Okay," Hawk said faintly. "What. . . what are you going to do with that?"

Volk scowled down at the dangling body in distaste. "I will take it to Kowful; it might offer some clues as to the technology used to construct it." He started out the door, growling as he went, "Come to the hangar when you are ready to leave. I'll wait for you there."


	9. Chapter 9

By the time the first visitors were beginning to file up through the underpass leading from Stonehenge's parking lot to the monument, Blaster and Steve were already making fly-bys in their planes. Blaster was now wearing his fully robotic body as opposed to his humanoid one, just in case a battle did ensue. Keaton was quite proud of the shiny red body with its boxy chassis, powerful weapons, and titanium-enforced helmet to protect his human head.

Nevertheless, he felt extremely awkward in it around Steve. Although it was a far cry from the primitive silver body he had worn when they first met, he still felt huge and ungainly next to the delicate Frenchman. Steve didn't seem to mind, though, even when he rested his own small hand on the large, sphere-shaped hammer weapon at the end of Keaton's right arm.

"There is the angel image!" Steve called now over the radio. Blaster looked down from his F-117 Seahawk, zooming in with his mechanical right eye to examine the image as he wheeled past it. There was no doubt now that it was the same angel as the one which appeared on Daio Ika: a short-haired, humanoid figure with large feathery wings, breasts, and four arms. One pair of arms, the set positioned slightly lower and to the front, was delicate, but the other pair was oddly muscular. All this was imprinted in the grass with painstaking detail.

"I don't think anything human made that," Blaster muttered into his microphone. "It's too intricate."

"But it is like the one you saw in the desert?"

"Yes, exactly." Blaster snapped a few photographs with the camera built into his eye. "Okay, I got photos to update the dossier. . . but now what?"

"_J'ne sais pas_," Steve replied, a little flippantly in Blaster's opinion. "Have you contacted the _Goliath_ yet to report the sighting?"

"No," Blaster retorted, wondering why making the report was up to _him_ instead of Steve. "I guess we should fly back to base then and do it-" He broke off as a movement from the monument below caught his eye. "Hey Steve, did you see-"

"_Mon Dieu_, it's moving!" Steve screeched before Blaster could finish. "K-keaty, _look_!"

The movement was a shifting and rippling in the dark parts of the angel design, the parts which etched the feathers of the being's wings and the expression of its meditative face. Through the telescopic lens of Blaster's eye, it seemed that these dark spots were made of unmolested longer grass, while the brighter silvery-green areas- the forehead and cheeks of the angel's rather pointed face, its breasts, and its long skirt- had been composed by bending other blades of grass flat so that their lighter undersides reflected the sun's light.

_It's like those tall grasses are blowing in the wind,_ Keaton thought, glancing at his instruments. _Except. . . there __**isn't**__ any wind._

Keaton took more pictures as he circled Stonehenge in tighter and tighter orbits. They had permission from the British government to fly over the landmark, but the visitors looked up in irritation anyway, pointing at the low-circling Seahawk. But then someone on the ground saw the same movement the pilots had noticed; the visitors turned like a wave to stare at the grass in the middle of the circle of monoliths.

"Steve, we need to get these people out of here," Blaster suggested. "I think it's going to-"

Before he could finish, the earth gave a rumble that Blaster could hear even inside his plane far above the ground. A fissure appeared vertically down the middle of the grass angel, through its forehead to its feet, then the ground seemed to recoil from the split. Although Blaster would have thought it physically impossible- at least before seeing the same phenomenon in the desert three years ago- the grass and soil drew back to reveal a rectangular pool of water right there in the middle of Stonehenge. Some of the handful of visitors there drew back, but most crept as close to the monoliths as the footpath's boundaries allowed. Blaster silently blessed the park's managers for no longer allowing guests close enough to touch the great monoliths: the rule might save lives if it kept them away from Daio Ika.

"Watch out, Steve!" Blaster radioed frantically. "That's Daio Ika's pool!"

"I am ready for it, Keaty!" Steve declared, apparently excited about the prospect of battle now that he had recovered from the initial shock. "I will engage it- you cover me!"

"There's nothing to cover you _from_," Blaster muttered. "We're the only planes around!" Remembering how strong Daio Ika had been when he encountered it in the past, Blaster was now more focused on helping Steve fight it than on protecting the Frenchman's Rafale M from nonexistent enemy fire.

As the two circled Stonehenge, Blaster's prediction proved correct: two huge, flippered tentacles burst out from within the pool, slamming down onto the ground in a splash that must have soaked the visitors nearest the stones. Daio Ika crowned, heaving itself head-first out of the pool and landing writhing on the grass amidst the circle of monoliths and the now panicking visitors; Blaster saw many of their tiny figures running for the parking lot though a few fools remained.

Daio Ika had appeared in its weaker form, with a teal mantle and no markings. It paid no heed to the remaining humans about it, or to the fissure in the earth closing behind it, where the mark of the angel remained once the pool had disappeared. Instead the squid's wide, golden eyes were turned upward, rotating as they followed the circling planes.

"Eww!" Steve groaned into Blaster's headset. "It is hideous!"

"Never mind that! Start attacking it before it blasts us!" Blaster retorted as he fired his artillery Needle Shot at the huge cephalopod. He had forgotten just how big it really was; its sprawling arms and tentacles nearly filled the area circled by Stonehenge's monoliths. Strangely, though, it made no move to attack either plane though it still watched them closely. Steve began firing his own Needle Shot at Daio Ika, but he abruptly ceased when one of the tiny human figures below leapt over the barrier at the edge of the footpath and ran _towards_ the squid. Zooming in with his mechanical eye, Blaster realized that the figure was a man taking photos of the monster.

"Euh! _Quel stupide_!" Steve growled impatiently. Daio Ika apparently agreed; one of its arms darted out from between the two stones nearest the intruder and gave the man a shove that sent him flying through the air to land several yards away on the other side of the footpath. He stayed on his back, writhing.

Steve gave another screech and started peppering Daio Ika with more artillery. "I will show it that it cannot push humans around like that!" he cried, apparently having already forgiven his fellow man for his stupidity.

_I don't think it meant to hurt him though,_ Blaster realized, staring down at the huge golden eyes. _It's different this time. . . it's not attacking at all._ Still, he couldn't take that chance. Maybe Daio Ika _didn't_ mean any harm- but maybe it was just biding its time, luring them into a false sense of security.

Blaster renewed his assault of Needle Shot and was considering dropping one of his few bombs on the squid when the huge creature seemed to flicker, almost as if it were a television receiving a low signal. Blaster opened his mouth to warn Steve to be careful, but before he could speak, the flicker came again. This time, though the squid continued to squirm and watch them from the ground, another being now hovered in the air above it.

"Keaty! What- what is _that_?" Steve breathed over the radio. Blaster really wasn't sure: it seemed to be a humanoid figure who sat serenely in the atmosphere over the squid's head. The figure resembled the angel in its facial features and short hair, but it bore _six_ arms instead of four. It sat cross-legged with its arms moving gracefully about it like the embodiment of a westernized Kali, and all of it- skin, hair, clothing, eyes- was the same teal shade as the squid.

"I. . . I think it's part of Daio Ika," Blaster murmured back, snapping photographs madly. "It. . . or she? I don't know. . . ." He chanced a look down at the people below as he dipped one wing to circle the bizarre deity; the few stragglers were staring up at this new part of Daio Ika in wonder, one woman prostrate on the ground before it. The man flung by the squid was sitting up, hunched over in pain but apparently not seriously injured.

Both pilots had ceased their fire at the new development, and now Blaster hesitated. Shooting a large animal in cold blood was one thing, but to fire at this ethereal, goddess-like figure seemed blasphemous, even to a good Protestant boy like himself. Steve solved the debate for him by opening fire with his Needle Shot, spraying the six-armed figure.

"Blaster, keep attacking the squid!" the Frenchman radioed. "I cannot trust this thing!"

"Right!" Blaster felt a little guilty as he again fired at the monster on the ground, but he knew Steve was correct: Daio Ika was part of Fata Morgana, and they _couldn't_ trust it.

The humanoid figure's limpid teal eyes opened wide, then narrowed again in anger as it was attacked, though there was no sign that it had been damaged by their fire. A fireball appeared out of nowhere in one of its left hands, and it pitched the missile at Steve's Rafale. Blaster clenched his teeth nervously, but the Frenchman easily dodged the attack as both of them continued their own assault.

Then, as Blaster circled the great squid, a flush broke out over its blue-green skin, first on the crest of its mantle then spreading down over its whole body.

"Steve, it's changing forms," Blaster warned through his headset. "It's more powerful when it's pink all over, so be careful!"

"_Zut_, what a dumb boss," Steve muttered, then he squawked in surprise when the six-armed figure in the air changed as well. "Aah- it is the angel!" The figure had indeed morphed into a living representation of the angel image, with a pair of huge wings replacing the third set of arms. It unfolded its legs and stood on nothing as it clasped its two lower hands together in front of it as if in prayer.

Blaster hurriedly photographed the new figure, then looked down to see that the squid too now bore the image of the angel on its mantle with a half-open eye etched below it. Keaton aimed his next volley of Needle Shot between the squid's own eyes while Steve attacked the angel. Daio Ika did not suffer this second attack long before returning fire: a blue laser emanated from the eye symbol of the squid, swinging around to follow Keaton's orbit and grazing the tail of his plane. He growled through his teeth as his Seahawk wobbled.

"Damn it!" Blaster aimed carefully then deployed his plane's bomb, the Satellite Laser, directly at the squid's fake third eye. The Seahawk's powerful energy beam struck the squid head on, making it writhe frantically as it pressed close to the ground, trying to escape the attack. Blaster was surprised to see the angel recoil in pain as well, as if Blaster had struck it instead. _It can feel whatever the squid feels,_ he realized. _They're- what it's called. . . symbiotic!_

"Steve, bomb the angel!" he called. "They're connected somehow- if we hurt one, we'll damage the other!"

"_D'accord_!" Steve fired his own bomb at the figure of the angel, a Gravity Bomb that opened what looked like a miniature black hole over the angel's bare chest, sapping its energy. Both angel and squid flickered briefly, then Daio Ika rallied and both halves pitched missiles at the pilots.

"Again!" yelled Blaster, encouraged by the flicker he had seen. _We did do __**some**__ damage!_ He fired another Satellite Laser simultaneously with Steve's second Gravity Bomb.

"That is my last bomb, Keaty!" Steve warned him, but Blaster was too busy watching the squid to reply. The eye design on its mantle had begun to bleed, something like crimson tears trickling from it and between the squid's real eyes to stain the grass which still bore the angel symbol. The squid thrashed its two large tentacles on the ground as its smaller arms squirmed, then it angrily shot a fireball from its siphon; however, the wild attack easily missed Keaton and dissipated harmlessly in the distance.

Blaster himself only had one bomb left, and he was about to fire it when the angel cast one agonized look at him, then disappeared. Both Keaton and Steve made the same surprised noise; before they could strike the squid, the earth under it moved again, opening the uncanny trapdoor into Daio Ika's pool. The squid immediately retreated, clambering into the pool and disappearing into the water. Only a dark, billowing cloud of its blood remained visible in the pool, then the ground closed over it one more.

"K-keaty?" Steve stammered. "It- it ran away! That is- it is _cheating_!"

"Of course it cheats; it's from Fata Morgana." Keaton looked down into the center of Stonehenge and found that the angel crop circle was gone. "Steve, it's over," he murmured. "It isn't coming back- not here."

Steve didn't question him, only radioed a confirmation. "Should we return to base now?"

Blaster studied the scene below him, the visitors now creeping back from the safety of the underpass and parking lot to survey the scene of the battle. Some were staring up at the planes, but most were gathered around the man, now seeming to be fully recovered, who had been thrown by Daio Ika.

"Yeah, let's go back," Blaster told his partner. "I don't think they need us here."

When they returned to their base, Blaster contacted the _Goliath_ and told Glenda what had happened.

"Well, that makes two members of Fata Morgana defeated," she replied cheerfully. "Whity, Chaika, and Pooshika have actually captured Mars-Vesta. We're on our way to pick them up now, then we'll swing back around for you two. It'll be a couple hours before we reach you though."

"Okay." Blaster frowned as he disconnected the call.

"What is it, Keaty?" Steve, at his side as always, asked gently.

Blaster sighed. "Just what she said, about Daio Ika being defeated. I don't think it _is_ defeated at all- it only retreated for the time being. It could strike again, anywhere." He trudged out of the base's communications room on his Caterpillar-tread feet with Steve following him.

"Well, it seems to be inclined to give a warning before it appears," the Frenchman pointed out. "We can keep watching for reports of. . . well, angel sightings."

"All over the world?" Blaster retorted, regretting it immediately when Steve's face fell. Despite his earlier irritation at Steve's flippant, arrogant attitude, Blaster had been impressed by the Frenchman's bravery in battle. _I shouldn't get so impatient with him,_ Keaton thought.

"Euh, I guess you are right," Steve mumbled. When they reached their cabin, he sat down on his bed, pulling off his tall, white boots and rubbing each foot gently between his hands. "But. . . there is nothing we can do, right? Just wait for it to show up. . . ."

"Right." Keaton sank down onto his own bed, grimacing as it creaked mournfully over the weight of his robot body.

"Are you going to put your other body back on?" Steve asked, raising a carefully-groomed eyebrow.

"No," Blaster said thoughtfully. "I. . . think I'd better stay in this one for the time being." He wasn't about to admit it, but he felt a lot safer in his current form, where he always had weapons literally to hand. _If Daio Ika should reappear and attack us suddenly, I can protect Steve,_ he thought. Even though Steve had been the more aggressive one in air battle, Keaton knew he would be helpless in hand-to-hand combat. _And I don't think I could stand it if he got hurt!_

The Frenchman interrupted his thoughts with a sudden charming grin. "Hey, can I see your human body?"

Keaton winced. "Without my head? No way!"

"Where is it, in your closet?"

"I'm not telling _you_." Blaster made a face at him. "You'd probably. . . I don't know, dress it in a costume from one of your musicals or something!"

"Now that is an idea!" Steve's smile grew. "To put you in a musical, I mean, after we defeat Fata Morgana. Can you sing?"

"Not a note," Keaton smirked, sure that would end the discussion. He had no such luck.

"What about dance?"

"Haven't tried since my high school prom."

"Oh, well I am sure I could teach you!" Steve jumped to his stocking feet and grabbed Keaton's left arm, which bore a large drill instead of a hand, then swung it back and forth in an imitation of the arm motions of a ballroom dance step. "You could have a supporting role- since I am always the star, of course!"

"Of course." Blaster chuckled at Steve's infectious optimism, which had even cheered Keaton up from his dismal worries about Daio Ika. Steve seemed to have no doubt that they would defeat the enemy, or that he would _always _be the star of the show. That cheerful egotism was what made Blaster like him, even as it irritated most others.

_I wish he was a girl,_ Blaster thought out of nowhere. As feminine as Steve already was, Blaster could easily envision him being just as beautiful as a woman, as well as just as obliviously narcissistic, and just as skilled and brave in an airplane. _In other words, just like he is now,_ lamented Keaton, _except female so I could date him._

"What are you blushing for, Keaty?" Steve teased, startling Blaster out of his rather embarrassing thoughts. "You aren't _that _shy about dancing are you?"

"In this body, I certainly am," Blaster replied, latching onto the excuse even as he gently shook Steve's hand off his drill. "Uh, I'm gonna get my stuff and go wait in the hangar for the _Goliath_."

Steve gave him a perplexed look. "But Glenda said it could be hours!"

"It's not like I have anything else to do," Blaster countered as he went to his closet and gathered up his two duffel bags (one of which did indeed contain his human body). He hauled them past Steve and out into the hall, getting a puzzled and slightly hurt look from his partner as he went. Blaster felt guilty over that, but it was easier than dealing with the sneaking suspicion that he was falling for another guy.

_So maybe he __**does**__ flirt with me, but it can't mean anything,_ Blaster thought, blushing even more as he sat down in the hangar next to his plane. _I've seen him act like that around everybody, male and female. And anyway, I like girls! If he didn't look so damn much like one, I wouldn't feel this way. . . ._ He knew, though, that he was trying to delude himself: if he really _was _only attracted to girls, he would have quit "liking" Steve as soon as he found out the Frenchman wasn't female.

Blaster finally gave up trying to sort out his feelings and the logic- or lack thereof- behind them. _No matter how I feel about him, he's my mission partner,_ Keaton thought, _and that's what matters. I have to protect him and fight with him- and if I. . . have feelings for him, that just means I'll work even harder for his sake._

As if on cue, Steve wandered into the hangar through the large set of doors opposite Blaster's plane. The blond was dragging a needlessly large bag of belongings, which made Blaster smirk in spite of himself. Steve glanced at him, then resolutely stuck his nose in the air and stalked over to wait on the other side of his Rafale, out of Keaton's line of sight.

Blaster knew that meant Steve was miffed at him, but he only grinned wider because he also knew it wouldn't last long; he'd be forgiven by the time they got back to the _Goliath_. Having a fickle, mercurial partner did have its advantages.


	10. Chapter 10

Mao Mao and Hien's first full day in Tokyo was uneventful, spent patrolling the skies- and the newspapers- for any sign of Super X Kai. There was none, no more sightings and no indication that Kai had caused any damage or injuries.

On their second day at breakfast, Mao Mao slumped over her tamagoyaki grumpily. "Maybe Super X isn't even here at all," she sulked. "River did say that Pandora acted like she would attack England instead- maybe she's had enough of Japan too!"

"That's no way to talk about your country," Hien said coolly. He had another cup of tea, but this time he was eating a bowl of rice with it. (At least Mao Mao assumed he was eating; clumps of rice _did_ disappear at intervals when she wasn't looking.)

"Weren't you getting bored with your ordinary life, though, after fighting so many battles?" Mao Mao persisted.

"Our lives are hardly ordinary," retorted Hien. "Either of them."

"You know what I mean! Yes, I know I have a good life that a lot of girls would dream of- but it's so routine, so. . . lonely." She sighed and swallowed her last bite of tamagoyaki. "But I guess you wouldn't understand. Ninjas probably never get bored _or_ lonely."

"Mn," was all the response she got. Mao Mao stood angrily and stalked off, shoving her breakfast tray through the open window leading to the kitchen as she passed.

_He's just impossible to talk to!_ Mao Mao thought as she brushed her teeth and straightened her uniform in the bathroom. _Even if he does understand what I mean, he won't admit it- he's too determined to make me look stupid!_

Mao Mao went to the hangar without waiting for Hien, deciding that she would go out patrolling on her own. Although it was still early, she could see heavy traffic below her from the cockpit of her F-15 as she flew towards the center of the city. However, there was no sign of anything amiss.

_It'll be another boring day,_ Mao Mao sighed to herself. _That UFO in the tabloid probably wasn't Super X Kai at all; I bet it was some kind of hoax. Maybe if we don't find anything today, Lord River-N-White will give us a different assignment. . . ._

Nevertheless, Mao Mao wasn't about to shirk her duties, no matter how pointless they seemed. She steered her plane in the direction of the capitol building where Super X Kai had once attacked. Finding nothing out of the ordinary there, she turned towards the nearest shinkasen bullet train station; Kai was also fond of destroying trains and the tracks on which they ran.

Mao Mao had just decided that this pursuit was worthless as well, when her plane's instruments detected a rumbling in the earth below her. _An earthquake? _she wondered briefly, until she saw that the shinkasen station lay at the center of the disturbance.

_It's Kai- it's got to be!_ Sure enough, as she circled the station, a huge blue-green laser exploded from the building's second story, flashing out of the front of the station into the city beyond. The laser was high enough up that it did no damage to the streets below, although traffic screeched to a halt and pedestrians gawked up at it.

_You'd think Tokyo would be better prepared for this after all those Gamera and Gojira movies,_ Mao Mao thought with a rather guilty giggle. She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but she was actually relieved that Kai _had_ finally attacked: at least her and Hien's time hadn't been wasted, and she could finally get on with doing something useful for Project Blue.

Immediately after the laser's appearance, Super X Kai burst from the hole left behind. The horseshoe-shaped craft hadn't changed from its photos, nor had its attack pattern altered: it shot the usual fireball missiles at her F-15. Fortunately, Kai's quickness in movement did not translate to the motion of its missiles, and Mao Mao easily dodged them.

_Why did it wait to attack just when I show up?_ Mao Mao wondered as she returned fire with her F-15's machine gun. _It hasn't caused any damage in all the days since it was sighted- then it blows up a building right in front of me! It's like Kai was waiting for me. . . ._ She pushed the thought from her mind for the time being, though; the important thing was that she stop Kai before it did any more damage.

The flying craft darted backwards, past the burnt-out hull of the station and out over the train tracks behind it. Mao Mao followed, still laying on her artillery as heavily as she could. She knew the pattern: in its last attack on a station, Kai had hovered over the tracks just before summoning an earth-bound body, the four-legged Super X Walker. Mao Mao hoped to destroy Kai before it could attach itself to the more powerful walker- but she had no such luck. Her F-15's sensors again picked up an earth-shaking rumble, then the walker burst from the back of the desiccated station, moving backwards to align itself underneath the hovering Kai.

"Damn it!" Mao Mao swore aloud as Kai lowered itself onto the walker, attaching as the machine's "head." From that position, though it could no longer fly, it had a greater range of weapons at its disposal, including cannon and guns that were far more powerful than anything Kai could carry by itself. In addition, its defense was stronger now that Kai's movement was not reliant upon its ability to fly.

"I don't care how many bodies you have; you won't defeat me!" Mao Mao cried as she swooped at the contraption, blasting it with her machine gun.

"Do you expect it to answer you?" The acidic question came over her radio's headphones, and it made Mao Mao cringe.

"Hien!" she groaned, craning her neck to look for her partner's FSX. "Where did you come from?"

"I was still at the base when an alert came through that Kai had been sighted. You shouldn't have gone out fighting by yourself!" the ninja scolded.

"I was just patrolling!" Mao Mao retorted in between sprays of fire at Kai. "And anyway, you were the one wasting time at the base- I was out doing my job!"

"If you're doing your job, why isn't the enemy defeated yet?"

"_Ooogh_!" Mao Mao growled in frustration. She would have greatly preferred to be left to fight Super X on her own, but Hien had already joined in the battle, adding his Shuriken Shot to her own artillery attack. Super X retaliated with a renewed barrage of missiles; in addition, two long, thin arms darted out from Kai, now serving as the walker's head, to grab for the FSX as Hien neared it. The ninja easily dodged the mechanical grasp.

"Mao, use your E-Wave on it," he ordered over the radio. "I'll bomb it while it's frozen, so I can get close to it."

Mao Mao glowered at the command- _Why should I have to take orders from __**him**__?_- but she knew the plan was sound. She lined up the nose of her F-15 with Super X's head, then fired her time-stopping E-Wave bomb. _I just hope it still works_, she thought tensely as she waited for the attack to spread along the tracks past Super X.

The E-Wave functioned on an invisible frequency, sending out waves of electronic disturbance that served to momentarily render any mechanical object non-functional. Her plane could only sustain the frequency for a short amount of time before recharging, but it was often long enough to buy Project Blue members time for some strong attacks. Dr. Kowful, who had created the E-Wave, had also rigged all of Project Blue's own craft and machines to be unaffected by the frequency; that meant that Hien and Mao Mao were still able to control their own planes. Still, Mao Mao worried during every battle that Fata Morgana might have also discovered a way to cancel the frequency.

So far, though, they had not: Super X froze an instant after Mao Mao fired, giving Hien the chance to fly close to the comatose walker. He fired his FSX's own Ninja Beam weapon at Kai, causing the whole contraption to rock on its four huge legs. As Hien attacked, Mao Mao also shot her own ordinary artillery at Super X, figuring every little bit helped. Hien got in a little Shuriken Shot as well before the walker sprung to life again, taking a few broad steps backward then firing its cannons at them.

"Good!" Hien called over the radio. "We got in a lot of damage that time. One more blast like that ought to take care of it."

_At least he said "we," _Mao Mao thought.

"I need a little more time to recharge," she said aloud. "Just keep hitting it until then." They both continued to assault Super X with their normal artillery until Mao Mao gave the signal that her E-Wave was ready to go again. The two pilots repeated their attack, Mao Mao freezing Super X and Hien bombing it, then both got in several rounds of artillery fire before the enemy could move again. This time, it wobbled heavily as the E-Wave wore off, then Super X's back left leg gave way completely, sending the walker crashing to the tracks.

"Almost got it!" Mao Mao crowed. Super X fired a few more feeble shots at them both, but all its missiles went wild. After another minute of attack from both Mao Mao and Hien, the walker collapsed completely onto the tracks, with Kai crashing to the ground last.

Mao Mao cried, "Ha!" triumphantly as she circled the defeated Super X, doing a final check to make sure it was really rendered inoperable.

"It's done," Hien said curtly. "Come on, we have to get back to base to file our report."

"Yeah, someone else can clean up this mess!" Mao Mao declared as she followed the FSX back towards the base. It _was_ a relief to know that Project Blue wasn't responsible for repairing the damage caused by Fata Morgana's attacks. Lord River-N-White had always said that their hands-off policy was in place to protect the secrecy surrounding the organization, but Mao Mao didn't care about that: she wasn't ashamed to admit that she was just a bit lazy.

"You did well," Hien said grudgingly after they had left their planes in the base's hangar and were walking to the radio control room. "It would have taken us a lot longer to defeat Super X without your E-Wave."

Mao Mao felt her cheeks grow warm at the rare compliment. "Thanks." She frowned thoughtfully as they reached their destination and Hien sat down in the chair in front of the radio. "Hey, there wasn't anyone piloting Super X, was there?"

The ninja shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of. I believe it's completely automated."

"I wonder how Fata Morgana controls it then," Mao Mao mused. "Do they program it? If it's a. . . a robot or something, it's almost as intelligent as Tee-Bee- and I thought only Kowful could create robots like _that_."

"It's not our concern," Hien replied. "Now be quiet so I can talk to Glenda."

Mao Mao fell into a sulky silence as Hien contacted Glenda on the _Goliath_ and relayed the results of their encounter with Super X. _Maybe it's not our concern, but it's still important!_ she thought. _If Fata Morgana can create robots and machines as advanced as ours, it would explain a lot about how they're able to keep reviving to attack Earth. _ She made a mental note to talk to Dr. Kowful about it once she returned to the _Goliath_.

"They're coming to pick us up in an hour," Hien told her brusquely after he had disconnected from the mother ship. "All of the others are back as well, so River is going to hold a briefing this afternoon."

"Did everyone else encounter Fata Morgana too?" Mao Mao asked.

"Glenda didn't say." Hien sighed, stretching as he stood. "We'll find out at the briefing, I guess."

"Mn." Mao Mao followed him out into the hall that led to their cabins. _I hope they all were successful if they did fight Morgana,_ she thought. _And I hope our next assignment is a little more interesting!_

Hien paused outside his cabin door and said, "Oh, Mao," as if as an afterthought.

Mao Mao started and turned to him. "Yes?"

"Don't forget to pack your stuffed rabbit. I wouldn't want you not to be able to sleep tonight." His brown eyes twinkled at her over his mask, revealing that he was probably smiling.

"Oogh, shut up, you!" Mao Mao growled, though she was unable to hide a smile herself. As she shut herself in her cabin to pack, she remembered, _Mama always said that when a boy teased me, it meant he liked me._ She grinned as she picked up Rabio and gave him a kiss on the nose. _I hope she was right. . . ._

* * *

Mao Mao was relieved to see all of her fellow pilots back safe and sound on the _Goliath_. It seemed that they all had encountered Fata Morgana in one form or another, and two teams even brought back pieces of equipment for Dr. Kowful to analyze.

_I should have landed and recovered some pieces of Super X,_ Mao Mao thought a bit jealously as she watched Pooshika proudly turn over the core of Mars-Vesta. Volk also gave Kowful a mysterious, bulky bundle, but no one else seemed to know what it contained.

After a short (and rather flavorless) meal in the _Goliath's_ small mess hall, all of Project Blue convened in the command center. Each team related their own battle against the enemy: Chaika, Pooshika, and Whity's fight with Mars-Vesta; Keaton and Steve's strange encounter with Daio Ika and its subsequent escape; Mao Mao and Hien's defeat of Super X; and Hawk's sighting and wound from the UFO.

"Aww, you got hurt?" Mao Mao cooed, turning to look at Hawk sympathetically. "Can I see?"

The boy turned a bright pink. "U-uh, it's no big deal. And it's on my. . . uh, my upper leg, so-"

"Hmph," Volk snorted, glaring at her, then he turned to Lord River-N-White at the head of the table. "That was the extent of our confrontation with Fata Morgana." Hawk gave him a surprised and slightly annoyed look; Mao Mao guessed that the boy was offended at having the attention turned away from him.

"All right," River said thoughtfully, though he too gave Volk an odd look. "So overall, we've been successful thus far, even if Daio Ika and the. . . UFO were not destroyed. Dr. Kowful will examine the remains of Mars-Vesta in case it can provide us with any clues about Fata Morgana. In the meantime, I have prepared new assignments for each of you."

"Grandfather, has Pandora contacted you again?" Kotomi asked abruptly. River gave her an irritated look but shook his head.

"No, she has not. However, as you know, Glenda has been monitoring the news wires for supernatural sightings around the world; I feel that these are the locations where Fata Morgana is most likely to strike next." He turned back to the pilots as Kotomi frowned thoughtfully.

"Keaton and Steve, since your battle with Daio Ika yesterday, there have been a large number of religious experiences reported in and around Atlanta, in the United States. A lot of these involve angel sightings, so I want you two to be on hand in case Daio Ika plans to attack there."

"Yes sir," said Keaton, who was now wearing his bright red robotic body. He sat on the opposite side of Hawk from Mao Mao, but he now took up a good bit of their side of the table, forcing the rest of them to sit close together.

"Daio Ika's benign behavior in England was extremely odd," River added, "so be especially vigilant. It may not cause any harm in America either, or it may be some sort of plot on Fata Morgana's part. Now." He turned to the twins and the dolphin on the other side of the table. "You three will report to Paris."

"Paris?" cried Steve. "That is not fair! _I_ should get to-"

"Steve, shhh!" shushed Keaton, blushing almost as red as his shiny paint.

Poor River, interrupted yet again, gave Steve a withering look then continued his orders. "There have been a string of arsons in Paris, all targeting cultural centers: the Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, the Musée Carnavalet, and so on. Normally, I wouldn't consider such crimes to be the _modus operandi_ of Fata Morgana, but we have obtained this photograph of a suspect." As he slid the photo across the table, Mao Mao caught a glimpse of a turbaned figure wearing a mask.

"Hey, he looks familiar," squeaked Whity.

"That's the Fire Master!" Kotomi gasped at the same time. "Grandfather, why didn't you tell me-"

"Kotomi, please!" River snapped, then he addressed the dolphin's comment. "Yes, we have encountered him in the past. He was first seen in Bunnyland when he aided Yohmaoh in kidnapping my granddaughters and myself. Fire Master later worked for the Hildroid, and Mars-Vesta appeared in his form when Fata Morgana aided the Hildroid three years ago. Since these arsons have continued after Mars-Vesta's capture, we can only assume that this photograph is of the _real_ Fire Master. I want you three- Whity, Pooshika, and Chaika- to attempt to find him and capture or destroy him."

"Yes sir," said Chaika, looking down at the photograph of their target thoughtfully.

"Ooh, Paris!" Pooshika whispered to her sister, loud enough to be heard across the table. "How exciting!"

"It _still_ isn't fair," muttered Steve.

"Volk and Hawk," River went on, "you will fly out to our aircraft carrier, the _Orion_, in the Aegean Sea. Several ships in the area have reported seeing an unidentified battleship nearby, so I've had all available information forwarded to the _Orion_. You two will investigate these reports and engage the craft if necessary."

After the two men nodded, River finally turned to Mao Mao and Hien. "You two will be sent to Brazil. We've discovered that UFO sightings have risen dramatically there in the past few days, particularly over the Iguazu Falls on the border between Brazil and Argentina. The descriptions of the UFO vary, but the majority of them suggest that the craft could be Fata Morgana's Spriggan."

"Yes sir, we'll take care of it!" Mao Mao cried excitedly. Fighting Spriggan, one of Fata Morgana's top weapons, in South America was a lot more exciting than fighting the old familiar Super X in Japan.

"You all will depart for your new assignments tomorrow," River addressed the group. "Until then, get some rest."

After they were dismissed, Mao Mao nervously followed Dr. Kowful and Tee-Bee A-10 to the small room that had been converted into Kowful's laboratory. She wanted to ask the Swede her question about Fata Morgana's control of its unmanned forces, but she was also slightly wary of Kowful, who was loud and had a bizarre sense of humor. Tee-Bee, on the other hand, never seemed to be in a good mood- but maybe that was because he was stuck working with his boisterous creator instead of flying.

Mao Mao hung back while they entered the lab, then she gingerly tapped on the mechanical door. After a moment, it slid open and she found Tee-Bee looking up at her. Even with his round, expressionless blue lens eyes, she had the feeling he was irritated.

"Yes, what is it?" the little robot, who was a good foot shorter than her, snapped.

"Uh, is Dr. Kowful busy? I wanted to speak with him," Mao Mao said as politely as she could manage.

"Yeah, he's fooling around with that thing from India," Tee-Bee told her, but he motioned her forward with one spindly metal arm all the same. "Come on in, though."

Mao Mao looked around her as she stepped inside the lab; it was one part of the _Goliath_ she had never seen before. The room seemed too cramped to be comfortable, especially for huge Kowful who was nearly two feet taller than Mao Mao. It didn't seem to be bothering the Swede at the moment, though; he was hunched over a small work table on which the core of Mars-Vesta rested. An array of tools was spread out around the strange device, and Kowful was poking at it with a screwdriver. He didn't even look up until Tee-Bee beeped impatiently.

"Mao Mao wants to talk to you," the robot grumbled. With the two humans taking up most of the floor space in the lab, Tee-Bee was forced to sit halfway under the table.

"Oh, does she? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Kowful laughed for apparently no reason at all. Mao Mao knew better than to be offended, however; after four years of working with Kowful, she had learned that his random fits of laughter weren't directed at anyone in particular.

"Yes, I. . . had a question about Fata Morgana's forces," she said, trying not to appear too curious as she eyed Mars-Vesta. The egg-shaped, rock-like device was still inert, its single red eye staring blindly up at the ceiling.

"If your question is about _this_ particular force, you're out of luck," Kowful warned her, giving Mars-Vesta a vengeful jab with his screwdriver.

"Careful!" squawked Tee-Bee as the device rattled ominously.

"I haven't even gotten it open yet," the Swede went on, ignoring Tee-Bee completely.

"No, it's not about Mars-Vesta- although it _is_ fascinating." Mao Mao picked it up- much to Tee-Bee's nervous dismay- and turned it over in her hands, finding the feeling of its smooth surface almost pleasant. "I was wondering more about Fata Morgana's more. . . usual robots and aircraft and stuff. Like Super X."

"Yeah? What about it?" Kowful folded his massive arms and leaned back against what looked like a cross between an arcade machine and a microwave.

"How does Fata Morgana control crafts like that?" Mao Mao asked. "Are they- I don't know, alive, sentient, like Tee-Bee?" She fidgeted with Mars-Vesta, suddenly wondering for the first time if she had hurt Super X, or at least Kai, when she attacked it. The thought was surprisingly disturbing to her, and she set Mars-Vesta down quickly to hide her distress.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Kowful chuckled, though he didn't seem to be laughing at her question itself. "Frankly, girl, I don't know- I haven't had the chance to look at enough of their machines up close. And this one-" He gestured roughly at Mars-Vesta. "-doesn't really count, since it wasn't created by Fata Morgana. I do have another possibility to explore, but that's rather another case entirely."

_Another possibility?_ Mao Mao wondered. _He must mean that bundle Volk gave him. I wonder what it is. . . something left behind by that UFO that hurt Hawk?_ She looked around surreptitiously for the package, which had been wrapped in what looked like heavy canvas, but there was no sign of it.

Tee-Bee peered up at her from under the table. "You have a good point though; they have to be controlled by _something_. Either they have minds of their own- nothing as sophisticated as _my _brain, of course-"

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Kowful interrupted.

"-_Or,_" the robot continued with an irritated glance at his creator, "Pandora has some way of controlling them remotely."

Mao Mao blinked. "You mean. . . Pandora herself could have been controlling Kai and Super X?"

"Not necessarily someone as powerful as Pandora," Kowful said, rolling his eyes in Tee-Bee's direction. "The robot tends to jump to conclusions. There could be some lower-ranking members with control over various crafts, or perhaps they do have some kind of sophisticated auto-pilot, more advanced than our own vehicles' but not as much as a truly sentient robot like Tee-Bee." The Swede chuckled. "After all, _I_ am the only one capable of building such electronic brains!"

"Lucky me," grumbled Tee-Bee.

"So Kai wasn't really alive," Mao Mao murmured. She felt better knowing that, but it left her wondering just who _had_ controlled the flying craft and the walker. _It certainly knew when I arrived, because it waited until then to attack- so either someone programmed it to recognize Project Blue's planes. . . or someone was watching me from far away._ That last possibility was enough to make her shiver.

"Ha ha ha, no, not really," Kowful boomed, unaware of her thoughts. "But! Pandora presumably _is_ alive, more or less, along with some of the other organic entities in Fata Morgana like Daio Ika and Tenukii Chaud. Lar, though. . . . that one's a mystery."

"Lar? You mean the giant eyeball thing? Well, the _other_ eyeball thing," Mao Mao amended with a glance at Mars-Vesta.

"Yes. We aren't sure if it's a machine or some kind of living alien." Kowful shrugged his broad shoulders and went back to tinkering with Mars-Vesta, wedging the point of his screwdriver into one corner of its eye. "Nngh!"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't break it," whirred Tee-Bee irritably as he craned his neck out from under the table.

"Ha ha ha ha ha! It's thousands of years old, you meddling machine! There's no way that I could- _look out_!" Tee-Bee and Mao Mao both ducked just in time to avoid Mars-Vesta's eyeball as it hurtled across the room, finally pried loose by Kowful's screwdriver. The eyeball crashed into a metal cabinet with a clank, bounced off, and flew into a corner where it spun on the floor before finally stopping.

Tee-Bee beeped something in a rather obscene tone. "You fumbling oaf!"

"Here, this part isn't broken." Mao Mao went over to the eyeball and picked it up after prodding it with her shoe to make sure it really was solid and not squishy like a real eye. "But what about the rest of it?"

"It's fine," Kowful growled, glaring at Tee-Bee, then his expression cleared as he looked down at Mars-Vesta's shell on the table. "Although what _else_ it is, I'm not entirely sure."

Mao Mao leaned over to look into the egg-shaped hull left now that the thing's eye had been removed. Despite how ancient Mars-Vesta was, Mao Mao was still subconsciously expecting to find wires and circuits inside. However, its innards were composed of a mass of intricate gears and pins of an indeterminate material: they, like Mars-Vesta's outer surface, looked like they were made of stone, but the machine was far too light-weight for that.

"Um, here." Mao Mao set the eyeball- which seemed to be made of the same material but in different colors- on the table. "I'll leave you two to get to work on that. I'm afraid I'll break it just by looking at it!"

"I wouldn't worry about _that_," muttered Tee-Bee. "Kowful's more than capable of destroying it all by himself."

"Silence, robot!"

Mao Mao tiptoed out, not wanting to start another fight between the Swede and his robot.


	11. Chapter 11

As they left the command center after receiving their new assignments, Volk gestured for Hawk to follow him. Hawk was surprised- well, stunned was more like it- but he went without protest. He had intended to question Volk about why the Russian didn't so much as mention their encounter with the stranger in Siberia at the briefing. _No, instead he lets me ramble on about UFOs, while all the rest of them probably think I was hallucinating or something!_ Hawk had thought grumpily at the time. However, as he now caught up to Volk, the cyborg spoke before Hawk could so much as open his mouth.

"We must discuss the rest of our mission with Lord River-N-White," Volk muttered as they walked to the commander's office. "But I wish to do so away from the others."

"Okay. . . ." A glance at the Russian's stern face made Hawk decide not to ask why; Volk didn't seem to be in the best of moods, even for him. "I think he was, uh. . . having words with Kotomi. Poor girl, he gets mad at her whenever she says _anything_ at a meeting!"

"We will wait for him," was all Volk replied. Apparently he was less interested in gossip than Hawk was.

River-N-White appeared after a few moments; he looked rather surprised to see the two of them, but he nodded at them politely.

"Did you need something?"

"I have another matter to discuss with you," Volk told the commander, "a second encounter with the enemy. I didn't think it was prudent to speak of it at the briefing."

"I suppose this has to do with that object you gave Kowful earlier," River said, raising an eyebrow as he unlocked the door to his small office. "Very well, come in." When both of them started to follow, River turned to Hawk sternly. "Hawk, this does not concern you."

"But it _does_ concern me- Volk's my partner!" Hawk cried. He knew intellectually that he should keep his mouth shut, especially when opening it meant that he was questioning his commander's orders, but it just wasn't fair that he should be excluded. For one thing, he had seen as much of the stranger as Volk had- and for another, Volk _was_ his partner, and the Russian had finally started treating him that way. _River will give him the idea that I don't matter after all! _the boy thought angrily.

River cocked a bushy eyebrow at Hawk- possibly over Hawk's disrespectful outburst, or maybe just in surprise that Hawk was suddenly claiming loyalty to Volk. "Young man-"

"Commander," Volk interrupted, "I would prefer that Hawk be allowed in as well. He was present at this encounter, and besides. . . he saw the alien craft earlier, and I did not."

Both Hawk and River stared at Volk in amazement. "Well, as long as you're _both_ contradicting me, I suppose I might as well allow it," River said, shaking his white head even though he smiling slightly. "But I should have known better than to expect Volk to teach you respect for the rules, Hawk." He turned back to his office, gesturing to them with one hand. "Come on, both of you."

Hawk sat down in one of the two chairs bolted to the floor in front of River's desk. Volk sat to his left; the hulking Russian with his billowing cape seemed far too large for the small room. River seated himself behind the desk and folded his hands upon its metal surface.

"Now," the commander said, "tell me what happened to you in Siberia- _all_ of it. And then, Volk, tell me why you are so concerned."

"As we said at the briefing, Hawk was the first to encounter the enemy," Volk said flatly, then he glanced at Hawk with his mechanical eye- at least, the boy assumed Volk looked at him. It was hard to tell for sure. "Tell him again what happened in the military training route." Hawk nodded, trying to tamp down the sudden nervousness he felt at having to relate the incident a second time. _What if I did something wrong, not "following the rules"? Or what if they don't believe me, and that's why Volk's making me go through it again?_ Still, he had little choice now.

"I noticed something in the sky when I was following Volk through the MTR," Hawk explained. "At first I thought I had imagined it- it was sort of like seeing something out of the corner of my eye that wasn't really there. But then I saw it again, and when I looked that time, I saw. . . it was a UFO," he said a little defensively. "I called Volk on the radio, but as soon as I started to tell him about it, it. . . ." Hawk trailed off and looked down at his knees. "I swear it looked like it fired something at me, a laser or something. It passed right through the plane into the cockpit and grazed my leg."

"And then your plane crashed?" River prompted.

"Yeah- I mean, yes sir, it. . . ." Hawk took a deep breath. "That was my fault. My leg was bleeding, and it all freaked me out so much that I lost control." He looked up at River, then glanced at Volk as he muttered, "I'm sorry."

"And you did not see this UFO," River said to Volk.

"No sir," the Russian replied. "I did not notice it when Hawk did, and I suppose it departed or hid itself after its attack."

"He flew back to help me," Hawk put in suddenly, just in case River was thinking of blaming Volk for not investigating the sighting. "And I didn't get a chance to tell him what it was anyway until afterwards, so it's not his fault."

River looked at Hawk, smiling more than earlier under his mustache. "I consider neither of you to be at fault. There's no real damage done, after all: you are not seriously injured, and our mechanics will be able to repair your plane by tomorrow." He turned back to Volk. "Now, do continue. What about this second incident that you can't discuss in front of the others?"

"After Hawk and I had returned to the base and he had been treated, he described the UFO to me," Volk went on. "The description convinced me that it was Gurabura, the same UFO I had encountered on the moon during Fata Morgana's last attack. It had been spotted during previous missions as well." Hawk blinked and stared at the Russian, but Volk showed no sign of noticing him. _Then he __**does **__believe me!_ Hawk realized, gratified. _He believed me all along. . . ._

"Ah yes, Gurabura." River templed his fingers on the desk in front of him. "Hawk, you did not recognize it from your dossier?"

"Uh. . . no sir." Hawk bit his lip; he hadn't so much as flipped through the dossier he had been given.

"Volk, I understand now why you are so concerned," continued River; Hawk was thankful that the commander didn't scold him over his inattentiveness to the dossier. "Gurabura is one of Fata Morgana's most powerful bosses. But that isn't the only surprise you've got for me, is it?"

"No sir." Volk fell silent and seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "In the mess hall after dinner, we were approached by an android who made some vague threats against us. At the time, I did suspect that the intruder might be a robot, but I was not sure- and I did not want to take any risks, especially as Hawk had already been injured. Therefore once it began to threaten us, I shot it, then when it was inoperable, I confirmed that it was indeed an android. I collected its remains and gave them to Kowful for examination." Volk said nothing of his dialogue with the strange machine beyond mentioning its "vague threats"- and neither did Hawk. _If he doesn't want to tell River, it's not my place to bring it up,_ the boy thought. Knowing now the trust Volk was starting to place in him, Hawk felt that he owed his partner the same faith.

"You acted appropriately," River assured him. "However, one thing still confuses me. How do you know that this android is connected to Fata Morgana? Did it tell you as much?"

"It did tell us that we would be- I believe 'obliterated' was the word it used, if we continued to oppose Fata Morgana. But even before that, I knew from experience."

The flat, matter-of-fact words were like ice to Hawk's spine. No one, to his knowledge, had ever asked Volk about the rumors that he had once been part of Fata Morgana; nor had they questioned the Russian about the encounters he had had with the enemy after joining Project Blue. As far as Hawk knew, they were all- even Lord River-N-White- too scared to pursue the matter with the taciturn Russian. However, Volk's tone, as much as his words, was enough to convince Hawk.

_He __**was**__ with Morgana, I know it. That's how the robot knew his name: it knew Volk from the past. And Volk knew __**it**__- or whoever it was a copy of._ The realization made Hawk strangely sad- but even stranger, it didn't shake the faith he had just granted to his partner. _Even if he did work with them once, he's on our side now- otherwise he wouldn't have come back for me! He wouldn't have cared that Gurabura hurt me. . . or that the android threatened to kill me._

"All right." River's reply to Volk broke into Hawk's thoughts, even as it confirmed to him that River didn't want to press the issue of Volk's knowledge of Fata Morgana either. The commander then sighed deeply. "I suppose you don't know how this android was able to infiltrate our base in Siberia."

"No sir." Volk leaned back, speaking with grim amusement. "And I'll wager that none of your staff there will know either. In fact, I won't be surprised if we two were the only ones who saw it."

River pulled off his monocle and rubbed his eyes thoughtfully. "In any case, Volk, you were right to request permission to return to the _Goliath_. The safety of the base is obviously compromised, and even if Gurabura remains in the area, we are not equipped to engage it from an unsecure base. Fata Morgana can't do too much damage out there anyway, so you two will serve us better pursuing the enemy in the Aegean. Which brings me to the one matter left to discuss." The commander leaned forward slightly to look at Hawk. "Do you feel, Hawk, that you are ready to cut short your training and pursue the enemy?"

It was all Hawk could do not to splutter indignantly. "Y-yes sir! I fought Fata Morgana two years ago- I'm still ready!"

"Hm. And you, Volk?" Unimpressed by Hawk's conviction, River glanced at his partner. "You only had two days- not even that, really- to work with Hawk. Do you feel he's well enough prepared?"

"Yes sir," Volk answered without hesitation. His next words made Hawk's cheeks flush with pride. "I have complete faith in him."

"All right then." River leaned back in his chair, apparently satisfied. "Despite this setback, I _am_ pleased that you two are showing such loyalty to one another. In that respect, your partnership has been a success so far. One of Project Blue's most important resources is our ability to rely on each other. In the past, you two both proved yourselves to be quite, ah. . . _independent_, so it is a relief that you've learned to work together."

"Thank you, sir," Hawk mumbled, a little embarrassed.

Volk only nodded curtly. "That is all we needed to discuss with you, commander."

River chuckled faintly. "All right, all right, you're both dismissed. Try to rest up before your deployment tomorrow."

Hawk went to his cabin, but Volk did not follow; instead the Russia stalked off in the direction of Dr. Kowful's laboratory without another word. _Guess he's going to see what Kowful's found out about that android_, Hawk though as he put in his earbuds and turned his iPod to his favorite playlist of rock songs. Hawk was curious about that himself, but he was also tired, and his thigh ached. _And I don't think Volk'd want me there anyway- he seems to like keeping this whole robot thing a big secret,_ Hawk mused drowsily. _But still, he's turned out to be a lot cooler than I ever would have thought. . . ._

* * *

Kotomi spent the afternoon in her cabin too, "lying low" as Glenda would have called it. River seemed to take offense at everything Kotomi said lately, so she decided it was best to stay out of his way- especially after he gave her a sound scolding for questioning him about Fire Master during the briefing. However, Kotomi also had a lot to think about on her own.

_They've hardly made any progress against Fata Morgana at all,_ she sulked to herself as she lay on her lumpy bed, staring up at the riveted metal ceiling. _Two of the four attackers got away- and to be honest, I'd much rather have Super X on the loose than Daio Ika!_ She was also concerned with Hawk and Volk's story of the mysterious UFO, as well as Volk's apparent reticence to discuss it.

_I don't trust Volk,_ Kotomi decided. _Even if he __**didn't**__ use to work for Fata Morgana. And if he did. . . . _ She narrowed her blue eyes at the ceiling. _If he did, __**none**__ of us should trust him, especially not his partner._

Then, of course, there was the matter of her sister Komomo. Their grandfather claimed that the princess was safe. . . but he still refused to tell Kotomi where she was or to give any reason why Kotomi shouldn't help fight Fata Morgana.

_But where would I even begin looking for Komomo? If Fata Morgana __**did**__ kidnap her, she could be anywhere!_ Kotomi had to trust that none of the pilots- except Volk, perhaps- had seen any sign of the princess; nothing they had described in the briefing so much as hinted at her being involved. _But it's too much of a coincidence for her to disappear just as Fata Morgana strikes again- especially now that Fire Master is involved. He helped kidnap her before. . . so he's my only clue now. I have to get to Paris and find him before the pilots destroy him!_

Kotomi's own aircraft, the Aka Usagi, was stowed in the hangar of the _Goliath_, so transportation wasn't a problem. The only question would be if she could sneak a rabbit-shaped airplane out of the mother ship before her grandfather caught her.

_I have to try,_ she thought, _and I have to do it tonight, when he's asleep and before the others leave for Paris._ Kotomi rolled over on her side and closed her eyes, deciding that a nap was in order if she were going to be up all night flying. _At least we'll be fairly close to Paris by then. . . and the Usagi holds plenty of fuel for me to get there._

Kotomi managed to doze until dinner, where she was slightly cheered by the fact that they were served carrots, her favorite vegetable. She watched the other pilots suspiciously, particularly Volk, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary in their behavior. Even the Russian behaved no differently than normal: he was silent, eating his food mechanically and remaining oblivious to Hawk's loud talking and furtive glances at him.

_Poor kid,_ Kotomi thought maternally, even though she was only two years older than the American. _He's practically got a crush on that big jerk, and Volk won't give him the time of day. Grandfather was crazy to pair a kid with an older pilot like that- it's just asking for drama!_ She started in on her second serving of carrots and glanced at Glenda, seated directly across the table from her. _The one good assignment he did make was to put me with Glenda- she's the only sensible person here!_ It never occurred to Kotomi that Glenda was almost as old as Volk, and that she herself was almost as young as Hawk.

As Kotomi lay in bed that night waiting for Glenda to fall asleep, she felt rather guilty about sneaking out on the older woman. _I hope I don't get her in trouble by running away_, Kotomi thought, _and I wish I could tell her where I was going, so she wouldn't worry. But. . . she might tell Grandfather. I can't trust anybody, not even her._

Finally, Glenda was still, and Kotomi heard her breathing evenly. Kotomi slipped out of bed, standing carefully in the darkness. She had hidden a small flashlight from the _Goliath_'s supply room under her pillow; she drew it out now and turned it on, flicking it over Glenda. The American woman lay on her back, one long arm draped down the side of the bed.

Kotomi had gone to bed in her clothes, so all she had to do in order to dress was put on her cap. After she had fixed it on her head, she crept to the door and eased it open.

"Kotomi?"

The girl started, cringing. She turned her flashlight back to Glenda automatically, finding the woman regarding her with one open eye.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Something wrong?" Glenda sat up languidly, opening her other eye to give Kotomi a level look.

"N-no, I just can't sleep. I was going to take a walk."

"Unh hunh." Glenda swung her legs off the side of the bed and switched on the nightstand lamp. "Let me guess- you were going to 'walk' over to Kowful's lab to break in and get a look at Mars-Vesta."

"No!" Kotomi said, relieved that she could reply honestly. "Although. . . that _is_ a good idea." She tried to look sternly at the older woman. "But anyway, it's not any of your business where I'm going- unless Grandfather made us partners just so you could spy on me!"

Glenda chuckled. "That may very well have been his intention, but if it was, he didn't tell _me_ anything about it. I'm just curious, but if you don't want to tell me, fine. Just. . . be careful, bunny, wherever you're going."

Kotomi felt even guiltier than before. She looked at Glenda miserably and wondered if maybe she could trust her after all. Finally, Kotomi hedged, "I. . . well, there's something I have to do. I still don't know where Komomo is- and at the rate Project Blue is going, if Fata Morgana _did_ kidnap her, we'll _never_ get her back." When Glenda didn't respond, only continued to watch her, Kotomi blurted out, "Glenda, I've got to do _something_! I can't just- just _sit_ here and listen to them report on how Fata Morgana keeps getting away!"

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Kotomi actually stumbled backwards a bit in surprise at the older woman's question. "Do I _what_?"

"Do you want me to come with you?" Glenda repeated, rolling her eyes. "As in, help you. Maybe you think the pilots on mission aren't good enough, but _I_ sure as hell can take down an enemy without letting it escape."

Kotomi swallowed hard and took a few steps toward Glenda's bed. "You'd do that, disobey orders and leave _Goliath_. . . for me?"

Glenda folded her arms and nodded. "Yeah, I would. . . 'cause I think you're right- maybe not in blaming Project Blue for everything, but certainly for taking it into your own hands." She gave Kotomi a little smile. "You remember Glen? One of the guys I flew for back when the Hildroid attacked?"

"Yeah, I saw him a couple times," Kotomi murmured, wondering where Glenda was going with this.

"He's my half-brother," Glenda told her. "And if he disappeared, all the orders in the world couldn't keep me from going after him." She sighed faintly. "It was hard enough going off on this mission and not telling him and Gill- his partner, the white guy who flew with us- that they could be in danger. I did tell them to stay away from any major cities, so Glen said they'd head to our condo at the beach for a while, but. . . ."

"They'll be fine," Kotomi reassured her, still reeling a little over the fact that the somewhat vain wrestler Glen was related to the dry, intelligent Glenda. "I'll- I'll get to the bottom of this _way_ before Fata Morgana gets around to blowing up beach towns! I promise."

"So you don't want me to come along?" Glenda persisted.

As tempting as it was to think of having Glenda's help in finding and questioning the Fire Master, Kotomi knew it wouldn't be right to ask that of her. "No, you need to stay here. There's no one else who can handle _Goliath_ like you can. . . and besides, Grandfather would pitch a fit if we _both_ ran off," she added with a little smile.

"Okay. But. . . let me know that you're doing all right." Glenda stood and put her hands on Kotomi's shoulders. "I can't have my protégé getting into _too_ much trouble without me."

"I'll won't get into any trouble," Kotomi retorted. "But. . . but I'll radio in." She hesitated, then added, "And- I'm going to France, to try to find the Fire Master. He was involved the last two times my sister was kidnapped, so I thought he might have something to do with her disappearance now." When Glenda just nodded without protesting or lecturing, Kotomi was filled with gratitude towards her and threw her arms around the older woman in a hard hug.

"Thank you," Kotomi mumbled. "Just don't tell Grandfather that you know anything about me leaving- I don't want him to get mad at you for it."

Glenda chuckled again, squeezing Kotomi tightly. "Don't worry about me." She let the girl go with a tug at one of the bunny ears on her cap. "You'd better get going if you want to find Fire Master before Whity and the twins do- you know how determined Pooshika can be once she gets going."

"Yeah." Kotomi reluctantly turned back to the door. "I'll be in touch."

She encountered no one as she made her way down to the hangar, relying on the dim lights that lit the _Goliath_'s halls in its self-imposed night. Kotomi found her Aka Usagi amid the other hulking planes and climbed in, settling comfortably into the familiar cockpit. That was one thing she did have to thank her grandfather for, letting her bring her plane.

_This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done, _Kotomi thought as she started flipping the switches to activate her plane. _Flying out on my own, without radio command to guide me. . . but it has to be done._ Fortunately, she had control of the _Goliath_'s docking bay doors; all of Project Blue's aircraft were equipped with remote controls to operate the _Goliath's_ entrances so that no pilot could be trapped outside of the mother ship, even if there was no one to let them in. A pass code required to operate the remote ensured that the enemy could not gain access to the _Goliath_ if they captured a Project Blue craft.

Kotomi taxied past the other planes into the docking bay, then she took a deep breath and entered the pass code to open the door. She knew that the door's loud grinding might awaken some of the others, but there was nothing for it. Hopefully, they would go back to sleep- and if someone did come to investigate, she would be gone before anyone could stop her.

As soon as the bay door was open, Kotomi taxied through the bay and launched the Aka Usagi out into the night sky, pressing a button to close the door once she was out. To her relief, her instruments showed no other aircraft nearby- she had had the frightening mental image of running smack into an airliner as soon as she left the _Goliath_.

_At least I don't have far to go,_ Kotomi thought, turning the Usagi towards the east and Paris. _And at least I can get clearance to land- the control tower won't know that I'm not an __**active **__part of Project Blue this time. _Europe passed swiftly beneath her as she flew towards her destination, wondering what she would say to the Fire Master when she found him.


	12. Chapter 12

It was just after midnight locally when Kotomi reached Paris. Project Blue had no base in France, but as Steve was the leader of the French Secret Rescue Squad, he had arranged for Blue to have use of the squad's base near Paris instead. The base was running on full staff even at night, as Steve had warned them of possible attacks by Fata Morgana; still, they sounded surprised when Kotomi contacted them for permission to land.

"We had heard reports of the arsons, of course," explained the night-duty squad member who met her in the hanger , "but we never connected them with Fata Morgana."

"I'm not certain that they _are _related," Kotomi admitted to the Frenchwoman, "but we have reason to suspect there's a connection. I want to investigate it before the attacks get any worse."

"Well, Project Blue must be quite devoted if they sent you here in the middle of the night," the squad member chuckled. "Even Captain Steve does not work _that_ hard."

"Erm, yes," muttered Kotomi. She didn't know "Captain Steve" all that well, but he didn't seem to be the type to work hard at _all_. "Has there been any new suspicious activity lately?"

"Not that we are aware, since the police are handling the arsons. Although. . . ." The woman paused, pursing her glossy red lips thoughtfully. "This sounds a bit silly, but Antoine, one of our squad members, took his nephew to the park at the Champ de Mars today. When he came on duty tonight, Antoine told everyone that his nephew claims to have seen a ghost at the entrance to the École Militaire nearby." She gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle. "Antoine was joking about it, but then someone else suggested that the arsonist was actually a ghost. I am sure it is just the boy's imagination, but. . . ."

The squad member trailed off, obviously expecting Kotomi to scoff at the idea. However, she then looked at Kotomi's face more closely. "Mademoiselle, are you all right?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine." Kotomi swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure after the start she got at the mention of a ghost: not only was such a thing exactly the kind of supernatural occurrence her grandfather had mentioned, but the Fire Master hadn't been the only one connected with both of Komomo's disappearances. There had been a very particular ghost involved as well.

"I'd like to look around the École Militaire if you don't mind taking me out there now," Kotomi told the other woman. "I'm sorry to ask for such a thing in the middle of the night, but-"

"_Non, non,_ it is fine," the squad member told her. "Although you do know it is closed at this hour- you will only be able to see the outside."

"That's fine," Kotomi murmured.

The squad member drove Kotomi into the city and left her at the Champ de Mars after Kotomi assured her that she could find her own way back to the base. In fact, Kotomi intended to wait outside until the building opened the next morning if she had to. She felt defenseless and almost naked without her plane even though she did carry a gun, her Beretta Jetfire. She reminded herself though that she was there to question any Fata Morgana members she came across, not destroy them. Just how she was going to convince them to answer her questions without them trying to destroy _her_, Kotomi didn't know, but finding them was the first step.

The Champ de Mars was a large, rectangular park full of trees, flowers, and footpaths. The Eiffel Tower stood at one end, quite distant from her now as the park stretched vertically to it from where she stood. At her end was the École Militaire, a collection of buildings that had served as a military school. The central building, directly in front of Kotomi, was large and seemed rather depressing, at least at night, with a weathered dome and dismal collection of columns in front.

Kotomi approached it hesitantly, wondering if police patrols in the city were increased due to worries about the arsonist. If anyone _were_ watching her, a lone young woman poking around the building at night certainly would seem suspicious, photos of a turbaned arson suspect aside. Still, no one accosted her as she moved closer, out of the park and into the graveled open area before the building. The only figure in sight was a statue of a man on a horse, erected directly in front of the central building.

Kotomi moved closer slowly, until she drew even with the statue. It was mounted on a tall, square plinth, and both the horse and its rider towered far above her. She tilted her head back to look up at the statue, until a movement out of the corner of her left eye caught her attention. Kotomi turned sharply to look but saw nothing there.

Then, abruptly, she felt someone grab her from behind. However, even as Kotomi cried out in surprise, she realized that there were no arms about her waist: instead, she seemed to be tangled in some kind of white fabric.

"Nngh, let go!" she snapped, struggling against her captor until she was swept off her feet entirely and carried- or flown- through the air straight towards the École Militaire's central building. The columns flashed by her on either side as the middle of three large doors rushed to meet her. Kotomi yelped wordlessly and cringed, sure that she was about to be dashed against the dark wood.

And then she was through, inside the building without, she was sure, the door ever having opened. Whatever was holding her let go, and Kotomi stumbled forward a few steps before regaining her balance and spinning around to face her abductor. There floated the ghost of the École Militaire: an almost spherical shape draped with what looked like a short white sheet. The ghost was currently about half as tall as Kotomi, as wide as it was tall, and an image of a face on its sheet was frowning at her grumpily.

"Tenukii Chaud," Kotomi growled, clenching her fists at her sides. "I _knew_ it!"

"What are _you_ doing here, miss?" asked Tenukii in return. Its voice was of an alto tone though slightly nasal, almost childlike and only vaguely feminine though Kotomi knew the ghost to be female. "You're not even supposed to be fighting this time!"

"Shows how much _you_ know about our plans," Kotomi sniffed, not about to tell her enemy that she really _wasn't_ supposed to be fighting. "And what are _you_ doing here? Decided to take up petty crime with the Fire Master because you're too scared to fight our planes anymore?"

"How rude!" Tenukii glowered at her, drawing together the wide, thick eyebrows on her sheet. What Kotomi found creepiest about the ghost- who had been among the army amassed by Yohmaoh to kidnap Bunnyland's royal family five years ago- was that Tenukii could change her face at will, despite it being apparently painted onto her sheet. Normally Tenukii's face was almost cute with large, shiny black eyes; a small mouth; heavy eyebrows; and a faint blush. Even when Tenukii was angry, as now, she didn't look especially threatening with _that_ face. However at any moment, Tenukii might take on any face at all, from a hideous scarred but human glower to the visage of a monster. There was even a photo in Project Blue records of her mimicking Blue's own Mao Mao, right down to the beauty mark under the idol's left eye. Mao Mao's generally pretty face was especially eerie on the white roundness of Tenukii's body.

"We're just following Pandora's orders, miss," Tenukii huffed at Kotomi now. "She paid me to help Fire Master, so that's what I'm doing." She floated around Kotomi in a circle, looking her over as Kotomi tried to turn her head to keep the ghost in her sights.

"But _why_?" Kotomi asked; she decided that she'd get the most out of Tenukii if she could just keep her talking. "Burning down random tourist attractions isn't going to get Fata Morgana much of anywhere."

Tenukii stopped abruptly in front of Kotomi, leaning suddenly close and pulling a glowering, unshaven male face at her. Kotomi yelped and nearly fell over.

"It got _you_ here, didn't it, miss?" Tenukii drew away from Kotomi again and switched back to her normal face before calling, "_Fire Master!_ Come here, please!" Kotomi was still catching her breath from her fright as the Fire Master floated into the room, seated cross-legged on what looked to be an air-borne rock. He wore the same fairly plain, cream-colored muslin robes as in the photo Project Blue had obtained, and a turban of a similar type of material was wrapped about his head. The Fire Master was human as far as Kotomi knew, but his face was hidden behind a white mask adorned with red stripes: all she could see of his body were two very blue eyes looking out from the mask.

"What is it, Tenukii?" he asked in a calm, low voice, but before the ghost could answer, the Fire Master noticed Kotomi. "Oh! You are the princess's sister!"

"Yeah," muttered Kotomi. _Always "the princess's sister". . . ._ Still, it was a good lead-in to her reason for tracking them down. "Where is she?" Kotomi demanded, trying to sound as fierce as possible.

"_We_ don't have her, miss," said Tenukii with a roll of her black eyes.

"But you know where she is, don't you?" Kotomi jabbed a finger at her accusingly, then turned to glare at the Fire Master as well. "You two are around every time she gets kidnapped!"

"Yet neither of us has ever been the one to kidnap her," the Fire Master murmured.

"So what?" Kotomi growled impatiently. "You both worked for Yohmaoh, you both worked for the Hildroid, and now you're both working for Pandora!"

"Miss, I'm a mercenary," Tenukii said, sighing irascibly though she never failed to address Kotomi with politeness. "I work for whoever will pay me- and I guess word has just happened to get around that I'm excellent at defending captured princesses."

"Then Fata Morgana _does_ have her!" Kotomi accused.

"I never said _that_!" Tenukii protested, the blush on her sheet heightening a little.

"Tenukii, what shall we do with this girl?" the Fire Master asked his companion, floating over to Tenukii on his rock. "Pandora ordered us to destroy any Project Blue pilots we encountered- but I do not think she would want _us_ to kill one of Lord River-n-White's family." Even as that made Kotomi feel a little better, his emphasis on "us" didn't bode well for her or Komomo's future.

"Um. . . we should take this one to Pandora, I suppose." Tenukii frowned slightly, studying Kotomi.

"Oh no you _won't_!" Kotomi gasped; the last thing she needed was to get kidnapped again herself. She pulled her Beretta out of her vest and pointed it at the Fire Master, figuring that aiming at him would be more productive than trying to destroy a ghost with one bullet- Tenukii _was _vulnerable to attack, but it usually took whole bombs to make her withdraw. Kotomi just hoped that Tenukii valued her associate's life enough for the gun to be a threat to her.

"Miss, that gun is rather useless," Tenukii pointed out. "Our powers are enough to destroy airplanes- even whole cities!"

"But Pandora wouldn't be too happy with you if you killed me, remember?" Kotomi snarled. "Besides, I could still get a shot off at any second. Maybe dying wasn't unpleasant for _you_, but I can make it hurt a lot for your friend here!"

"I _never_!" gasped Tenukii, apparently quite affronted. "I'll have you know, miss, that I was never _living _in the first place- the very idea! I am a poltergeist, and there's quite a difference between that and a. . . a dead person!" She darted in front of the Fire Master, placing herself in between him and Kotomi's gun. "Just try to 'get your shot off' as you so crudely put it. I can absorb much more than one little bullet!"

Kotomi knew how foolish it would be to persist in threatening a quite possibly insane ghost and a pyrokinetic monster who could easily blast her into ashes with a fireball, Pandora's wishes notwithstanding. She lowered her Beretta slowly; as Tenukii floated forward and snatched it out of her hand using one sheet corner, Kotomi wished she had never drawn it at all. If she hadn't alerted the two to its existence, she might have been able to use it later.

"If you take me to Pandora, will I get to see my sister?" Kotomi asked quietly while Tenukii floated behind her, wrapping a bit of sheet around her waist again to hold her captive.

The Fire Master looked down at her in silence a moment, then he said softly, "Yes, child, she's there."

"Fire Master!" groaned Tenukii, as if she herself hadn't already given away the secret. Then she pushed Kotomi forward with surprising gentleness. "Go on, outside. You can pass through the door like me if I'm touching you, miss." Kotomi walked forward slowly, tugging against the sheet as she walked to test its strength. Before she even reached the door, she realized that Tenukii's hold was much stronger than that of mere cloth, whatever she was made of.

As the ghost promised, Kotomi walked right through the closed door; she could feel it touching her sides and the top of her head as she moved through it, yet it gave no resistance. The sensation made her shudder.

"I'm sure you flew here, miss," Tenukii said when they and the Fire Master were outside in the gravel yard before the Champ de Mars. "Where is your plane?"

"I won't tell you." Kotomi looked around hopefully, but there was no one in sight, no one to witness her abduction by a ghost and a turbaned shaman, no one to hear even if she screamed.

Tenukii sighed in a long-suffering way. "If you won't tell us, miss, we'll be flying you through the sky all the way to Antarctica. Like this." She launched herself and Kotomi into the air and gave a little swoop before descending to the ground again. For a moment, Kotomi felt as if her stomach were still hanging in the air far above her head, even as she fixed on the ghost's words. _Antarctica! Pandora and Komomo are in Antarctica!_

"My plane is at the Secret Rescue Squad's base," Kotomi resentfully muttered aloud.

"Excellent. We'll be there in a flash, miss." Tenukii picked her up again- more carefully this time- and they flew with the Fire Master over the city. Kotomi knew that Tenukii wouldn't drop her, not if she were that worried about crossing Pandora's wishes, but the girl still kept her eyes shut, not wanting to see Paris moving beneath her. When they reached the base, they passed directly into the hangar. _Apparently, the squad isn't so secret after all, _Kotomi thought. _They knew right where it was._

"Let me guess, miss- it's the plane shaped like the rabbit," Tenukii said nearly teasingly, not even bothering to wait for an answer as she darted over to the Aka Usagi before the patrol in the hangar could spot them. Kotomi was deposited into the passenger seat of her plane with the Fire Master as the pilot and Tenukii just behind them.

"Now, you just keep quiet, miss," Tenukii warned, "unless you want those pretty bunny ears of yours to be set on fire." The Fire Master gave Kotomi a rather apologetic look as she glared at them both.

"They're just ribbons," Kotomi sulked.

"I didn't mean the ones on your cap, miss." Tenukii radioed the base's control tower for permission to take off, mimicking Kotomi's voice perfectly: no one from the base could be able to tell that Kotomi wasn't alone in the windowless Aka Usagi, which flew using its monitors, cameras, and instruments for guidance. The Fire Master navigated the plane as if he were somehow an expert at flying Bunnyland's aircraft, and they were soon airborne, leaving Paris quickly behind them only a few hours after Kotomi arrived.

_If only I could radio Glenda,_ Kotomi thought miserably. _No one will know what happened to me- and she'll think I just broke my promise on purpose._ She sank back in her seat, loathing both her captors even though they had been incredibly civil to her, by the standards of Fata Morgana members anyway.

"You two disgust me," she muttered. "Do you have any idea how many lives Fata Morgana has ruined- even of the people you _haven't _killed?" As she spoke, she thought of her own grandfather, how Fata Morgana had caused him to lie, even to her. _I bet he's known all along that Pandora has Komomo- and he must know more than that, too, for him not to go after her. Why is he scared to pursue her?_

"You can't blame _us_, miss," retorted Tenukii. "We're just following orders."

"And it never occurred to you that those orders might be _wrong_?" Kotomi looked over her shoulder at the ghost in frustration.

"Wrong, right, who cares?" Tenukii sniffed. "The orders of anyone who pays me are good enough for me, miss."

"Well- what if Project Blue paid you, then?" Kotomi countered. "You can radio my grandfather right now! He'll pay you to return me- _and_ to help us rescue my sister."

Tenukii raised one dark eyebrow at her. "How much? Pandora has promised me a planet she recently conquered, miss- a planet covered with jewel mines. I always _was_ fond of jewelry. But if Lord River-N-White can offer me something better. . . ."

"Never mind," mumbled Kotomi as her heart sank.

Tenukii frowned slightly then said with a little more sympathy, "Look, I don't _like_ having to help people kidnap your sister over and over, and I don't especially want to kidnap you either, miss. I enjoy fighting, but if I'm not being paid for it, I'd be just as happy to take up fencing or something. However, Pandora has hired me to stop Project Blue from getting in her way, so that's what I'm doing."

"Getting in the way of what?" Kotomi asked cautiously, as irritated as the venal ghost made her. "What's she trying to do? She never wanted to _take over_ the world before, just destroy it- and why does she need Komomo to do either?"

"We can't tell you," Tenukii said primly.

"Because Pandora hasn't told _us_," Fire Master said, speaking for the first time since they had boarded the Aka Usagi. Tenukii turned to glare at him, but he only gave her a deadpan look in return from beneath his mask before glancing at Kotomi. "You may find this hard to believe, but I disagree with Pandora's actions. I have known her for a very long time, longer even than I've known Tenukii, and she has never behaved so irrationally before. Her goals seem to have changed- perhaps out of desperation."

"Fire Master, you shouldn't be telling her these things!" Tenukii hissed, but he only shook his turbaned head.

"My dear Tenukii, you have a motivation to act for Pandora, but I want nothing from her: I am here out of loyalty to her and to you." Kotomi was startled to see the ghost's blush grow a little at his words. "Before, I could understand her reasoning, both for helping Yohmaoh and the Hildroid. But now. . . she is carrying it too far."

_Pandora helped Yohmaoh?_ Kotomi's eyes widened; she had known that Fata Morgana had aided the Hildroid, time-traveling robot zombies from the future. However, she had never even heard of Pandora before the royal family had moved from Bunnyland to Earth; Kotomi had had no idea that Pandora had helped the demon king who had kidnapped her, her sister, and her grandfather five years ago.

"That's on Pandora's watch," Tenukii replied to her companion sullenly. "It doesn't matter to me what she does, as long as she pays me for what _I_ do."

The Fire Master gave a mournful sigh but said nothing further. Tenukii remained silent as well, leaving Kotomi to her thoughts. They were dismal ones, too: not only was she being taken quite literally to the ends of the earth with no way of alerting Project Blue, but she was being taken straight to the being who had apparently been plaguing her from the very start, without her even knowing.


	13. Chapter 13

The morning after their return to the _Goliath_, Hawk got up without being ordered awake by Volk- for the first time, no less. In fact, the Russian was still asleep as Hawk quietly made his bed and started dressing. Even while sleeping, Volk didn't seem relaxed: his organic eye was tightly shut and his jaw seemed tensed. He slept on his left side most of the time, Hawk had noticed, and now his right arm rested on top of the blanket, fist clenched. Hawk turned his back on his partner to make his bed, deciding it was better not to wake him. _He looks like he'd be perfectly happy to punch me for disturbing him,_ Hawk thought.

However, when he sat down on his bed to pull on his boots, Volk had awakened and was watching him- _probably to see if I made my bed wrong,_ Hawk thought as he felt himself flush for no reason that he could understand.

"Morning," Hawk mumbled to Volk as he started tightening the laces on his left boot. Volk sat up, and a small red light flickered over his mechanical eye, apparently when he activated it.

"Good morning, little one," Volk said with a faint smirk. "Perhaps I have overslept- it must be almost noon if you're up all on your own."

"I just felt like getting up early," Hawk snapped defensively. He started to remind Volk not to call him "little" as well, but then Hawk changed his mind and concentrated on his other boot instead: he was starting to like the nickname, sort of.

When he looked up again, Volk had stood and was putting on his cloak. The Russian seemed to take it off only to sleep- and even then, he still wore long pants and a long-sleeved shirt and even kept a sock on his organic left foot. Hawk realized suddenly that the only parts of Volk's body he had ever seen were his head and hands. _What's he trying to hide?_ Hawk wondered. _Maybe he's really a robot too. . . ._

That reminded him of the android's body Volk had brought to Kowful. The Russian seemed to be in a relatively good mood, so Hawk ventured to ask, "Hey, do you know if Kowful's found out anything about that robot yet?"

"Mn." Volk made his bed quickly but surprisingly well, pulling the sheets taut with one hand. "He has not made much progress; the cybernetics are apparently very well advanced."

"Better than what Kowful himself could do?" Hawk asked in surprise. "I can't imagine anything being more advanced than Tee-Bee or Blaster's body."

"You saw the android," Volk returned, glancing at Hawk over his shoulder with his mechanical eye. "It was indistinguishable from a human, was it not?" When Hawk nodded reluctantly, Volk went on, "I myself would have had no suspicion that it was anything but human, had I not encountered androids identical to it before."

"Identical? You mean more clones of that guy you told me to watch out for?"

Volk turned away from Hawk again, though he seemed to be doing nothing now, only holding his arms down at his sides. Finally, he said, "Yes. I saw none of them during our last mission, but the first time I fought with Project Blue, I encountered two. One I mistook for- _him_, but when I shot him, I discovered my error. Then I infiltrated one of Fata Morgana's bases in the sea off Bermuda; there was another such android there, though he fully admitted to being a clone. The robot's master deliberately destroyed the base remotely, knowing that his android would be annihilated as well. Apparently, he has a practically infinite supply available."

"Volk. . . who is he?" Hawk asked hesitantly. He knew asking the Russian more questions was probably pushing his luck, but his curiosity was getting the better of his judgment. The androids' original was obviously someone from Volk's past with Fata Morgana, someone Volk hated passionately. . . maybe even the primary person against whom Volk was seeking revenge. _He hardly seems to care about Pandora at all,_ Hawk thought as he waited through Volk's silence following his question. _It's this man he wants to destroy._

"His name is Damiano Gallucci," Volk replied after an almost painfully long silence. He turned to face Hawk and stared down at him, arms folded underneath his cloak. "Unlike most of Fata Morgana's members, he is a human being from Earth- Italy, specifically, though he had immigrated to your country before he joined Morgana. Other than that I know very little- not why he joined, or how he distinguished himself enough for Pandora to allot him the resources to create all those clones." A humorless smile twisted the Russian's lips as he sat down heavily on the edge of his bed. "Although he can be very. . . charismatic and persuasive- maybe even to someone like Pandora."

Hawk felt something twist in his chest as Volk talked; he was liking less and less the way his partner spoke of this mysterious human, especially how Volk said "charismatic and persuasive." _But there's something he's not telling me,_ thought Hawk.

"What else?" he persisted, even though Volk drew his wild eyebrows together in a glare. "Why do you hate him so much?" When Volk refused to speak, Hawk glared right back. "Look, I know you used to work for Fata Morgana- _everybody_ knows it. I don't care about that; I just want to know why I'm supposed to be so scared of this guy."

"Why do you think I joined Morgana in the first place?" Volk snarled. "That charm I mentioned, that's the reason. He convinced me to join them. And then when he didn't need me anymore, he left me to die."

The pronoun was not lost on Hawk: _When __**he**__, not they, didn't need Volk- Gallucci, not Fata Morgana. What was this man to Volk?_ He was starting to think that he didn't really want to know the answer.

"Is that what happened to. . . to your eye and foot?" Hawk asked instead. The question reminded him of his cruel taunting of Volk just days before, making the boy uncomfortably embarrassed.

"Yes." Volk studied Hawk a moment then went on as if he had judged Hawk worthy of knowing the story. "It was during Fata Morgana's first full-blown attack on Earth four years ago, when Pandora attempted for the first time to destroy the planet. Pandora had assigned Gallucci and myself to pilot the orbiting space station from where she controlled her forces. When Project Blue finally found and attacked us, we sent the Station Core to defend the station and Pandora. However, the Core was quite easily defeated- by your brother, I assume."

Hawk nodded faintly. "Yes, Blaster was the one sent into space." Hawk had known, logically, that if he had been involved with Fata Morgana, Volk probably would have fought his brother. Still, it was painful to know that Volk had deliberately launched a weapon against Blaster.

"After the Station Core was destroyed," Volk went on, "the whole station began to shut down. Pandora escaped in her rocket- and you know what happened there."

_Yeah,_ thought Hawk bitterly. _My brother almost died for nothing, because even stopping her then didn't destroy her._

In a flat voice, Volk said, "We were the only two living beings left in the station, and there was one escape pod for us. When Pandora evacuated, Gallucci followed her to the pod bay to ensure that she escaped safely- and then he did not return to the bridge. After I realized there was no way I could save the station, I went to the pod bay too and found him already in the escape pod."

Volk paused, almost thoughtfully, then continued, "It was made to hold two humans, but while I was on the bridge trying to save Pandora's station, Gallucci had filled my space in the pod with the prototype for his androids. He was going to wait until I got there to confirm that the station was indeed going to crash- but as soon as he saw me running to the pod, he knew, so he closed up the pod and started opening the bay doors. Of course I had to leave the bay to avoid the vacuum- and he left me there, to crash to Earth in an abandoned space station." Volk gave a faint, cold chuckle that made Hawk want to shiver.

"I am sure Pandora was furious with Gallucci when she recovered- I was quite valuable to Fata Morgana after all, and she must have known what a formidable enemy I would make for them. At any rate, I believe she demoted him from second rank to fourth or at least third, for he doesn't seem to hold as much power now as he did when I was there."

"But how did you survive?" Hawk asked, nearly in a whisper. In spite of himself, in spite of knowing he should feel no sympathy when Volk had been injured in an attempt to destroy his own planet- after all that, Hawk hated Gallucci for his betrayal.

"I am not sure. I lost consciousness before the station crashed, and when I regained it, I was in one of Project Blue's hospitals. As far as I can tell, a team from Blue found me when they were looking for your brother. They kept me alive on a ventilator until Dr. Kowful finished building Keaton's body and could begin work on me."

Volk gave another emotionless smile. "I was there for some time, with one eye, one foot, and one lung before he had time for me- and I must have been quite hard on him. I remember wanting quite badly to die until he put my new eye in and I realized just what power he had given me- and how I could use this power to avenge myself on Fata Morgana and Gallucci. When Lord River-N-White came to me and asked if I would join Project Blue, I agreed immediately."

Hawk looked at him unhappily a moment, then he murmured, "I'm glad you joined us."

"Oh?" Volk looked truly surprised, though he masked it with his usual dryness. "I would have thought quite the opposite."

"No, I. . . I want you on my side." Hawk managed a little smile.

Volk said nothing for a moment, then he nodded brusquely. "Thank you, Hawk."

They went to breakfast soon after, where the rest of the pilots gathered as well. Tee-Bee had been right about his prediction of their ration supply: Kowful had indeed eaten most of the more delectable food, leaving the rest of them with eggs and toast. Unlike his brother, Hawk wasn't especially fond of eggs, which left him scowling over a rather burnt piece of toast.

As Hawk ate, he listened to the others' chatter: they seemed for the most part to be excited and eager about their upcoming missions. Only Kotomi, Lord River-N-White's granddaughter, was absent out of the usual diners; River too was missing, but he always ate on his own anyway.

"Hey Glenda, where's Kotomi?" Hawk asked around a mouthful of his unappetizing breakfast.

The older woman shrugged. "I dunno, kiddo. I haven't seen her this morning." Volk raised an eyebrow at Hawk when he heard the boy's _other_ nickname, making Hawk look down in embarrassment.

After breakfast, the pilots readied themselves for their next strikes against Fata Morgana. Hawk and Volk deployed almost immediately, as did Chaika, Pooshika, and Whity, for the _Goliath_ had turned to fly the others on towards the Americas. When Hawk and Volk reached the Aegean Sea, they landed on the _Orion_ to refuel and receive briefing on the strange battleship spotted amidst the islands there.

"It's a flat, circular ship," the commanding officer told them, "fairly small, but there are reports that it has launched two drone planes. It also appears to have two guns mounted on a turret in the center. Our photos-" He paused to push a grainy, greatly enlarged photo towards them- "show that it is very similar to the _Novgorod_, which Fata Morgana has used in the past."

"Hmm." Volk pulled his dossier out of a hidden inner pocket of his cloak and flipped it open , then handed it to Hawk. "Here. I am sure you forgot _your_ dossier."

Hawk took it grumpily but didn't protest: he _had_ left his dossier back on the _Goliath._ Volk had opened the booklet to the _Novgorod_, which did resemble the odd, round craft shown in the _Orion_'s photos.

"Has it attacked yet?" Volk asked the officer.

The man shook his head. "No, we believe that the drones were sent out for reconnaissance as they returned to the main craft without engaging us. We didn't want to begin an offensive strike without contacting Lord River-N-White first- and when we did, he told us to wait until you arrived."

Volk nodded brusquely. "All right."

When he and Hawk were alone, walking back out on deck to return to their planes, the Russian said in a low, rough voice, "Be alert out there. The _Novgorod_ may strike as soon as we near it. From what Hien and your brother reported about their missions, Fata Morgana waited to attack until Project Blue forces approached."

Hawk started to retort that of course he would be alert, but he stopped himself just in time. After all, it hadn't actually occurred to him until then that what Volk said was true: Fata Morgana _had _waited for them. It was kind of creepy in a way.

"Okay," he finally answered Volk. "I'll watch out."

Once in their planes, they soon reached their target, which was drifting fairly near to the _Orion_. The _Novgorod_ was the most bizarre ship- and quite possibly the most bizarre vehicle, period- Hawk had ever seen. As the photos had shown, it was completely circular, about a hundred feet in diameter, and it appeared from above almost like a flying saucer moving across the water. Its deck was punctuated with a turret bearing two cannons which seemed to be quite primitive- but which fired perfectly well, as Hawk soon found out.

"It- it looks like a clown ship!" Hawk chuckled over the radio even as he banked his Tomcat sharply to avoid the _Novgorod_'s fire.

"It is a very old Russian craft," Volk muttered. "I had no idea that it still existed before Fata Morgana somehow gained control of it and made it operational again."

"How old _is_ it?"

"A hundred years at least." While Volk spoke, he fired several rounds of shot at the ship. "It was scrapped even before the first World War."

"Geez," Hawk groaned. "What would Fata Morgana want with an old thing like that?"

"Pandora is not choosy," Volk retorted testily, "and the ship is still effective- as you will see if you do not help me destroy it!"

"Okay, okay!" Hawk followed Volk's lead and aimed his machine gun at the _Novgorod_ as well, peppering it with shots. "You don't have to jump down my throat!"

"Shut up and attack," growled Volk. Apparently, Hawk thought with a scowl, his partner had had enough of being nice to him.

_I'll show him just how much I __**can**__ attack,_ Hawk told himself as he readied his plane's bomb. This was the first time he had been in an actual battle with Volk, and he was determined to impress his partner. As Hawk soared over the _Novgorod_, he dropped the Tomcat's Tomahawk missile, resulting in a satisfying explosion on the enemy ship. Hawk had hoped to garner some praise from Volk, but the Russian said nothing. Instead, he fired his own laser missile at the ship, rocking it heavily.

"It is weak," Volk radioed a moment later. "Bomb it again, little one!"

"Don't call me little!" Hawk snapped as he obeyed: though he now liked the affectionate nickname, he was too annoyed with Volk to let him get away with using it. The second Tomahawk caused the _Novgorod_ to list sharply to the side, but Hawk's view of the ship was obscured almost immediately when Volk hit it again with his missile.

"If you are out of bombs, keep firing with your regular artillery," called Volk. "We can take it down now!" Hawk complied while Volk fired his shot as well; sure enough, the Novgorod's left side sank farther and farther into the water until the round ship capsized completely and began to disappear into the ocean.

"Woohoo!" Hawk cried, dipping his wings proudly. "We did it, Volk!"

"Good work." The praise was unenthusiastic but genuine. Hawk's cheeks grew warm with pleasure as he followed Volk back to the _Orion_.

After they had landed on the aircraft carrier's deck, Volk and Hawk started to go below deck to both inform the _Orion_'s officer and radio River-N-White about the encounter with the _Novgorod_. However, before they even reached the stairwell, a movement in the sky made Hawk look up.

"Volk!" he yelped, stopping short and even backing up a few steps for a better view.

"What now?" Volk paused at the stairwell and looked over his shoulder impatiently.

"It's- it's Gurabura." Hawk stared into the bright blue sky until his eyes ached, focusing on the black disk that had moved to hover over the _Orion_. This time, he had no doubt that what he saw was a UFO- and now he was certain that it was Gurabura.

"What-!" Volk bolted from the stairwell back out into the open, throwing his shaggy head back to follow Hawk's gaze. As he focused on the saucer, he made a noise that was almost a growl. "Inside, now!"

"What?" Hawk unintentionally echoed, turning to stare at him. "This is our chance to-"

"Now!" roared Volk, grasping Hawk's arm roughly and hauling him towards the stairwell. Hawk's temper flared immediately at being manhandled, and he jerked his arm away. The look on Volk's face showed that he really wasn't expecting resistance, and Hawk realized that that was the only reason he had been able to free himself.

He bolted away from Volk before the Russian could grab him again, calling over his shoulder, "I'm going after it! It can't shoot me in the leg and just- just get away with it!"

"Hawk!" Volk snarled, storming after him far more quickly than Hawk would have expected. "You will _not_ disobey me this time!"

"I'm not going to run away!" Hawk shouted back as he dashed for his Tomcat. "Fata Morgana won't get the best of me!"

Gurabura was, apparently, determined to prove him wrong. Hawk caught the flash of its laser- blue and far wider this time- beaming downwards towards him as he reached his plane. He yelped and threw himself out of its path just in time.

"_Hawk_!" raged Volk, leaping for him. Hawk was faced with a terrible choice: get zapped by the UFO or tackled by the furious Russian. He managed to roll under the Tomcat before Volk caught him, leaving Volk on his knees and swiping one large hand under the plane.

"You damned brat, I'm going to-" Volk began, but Hawk didn't stick around to listen to the rest of it. He crawled out from under his plane on the other side and tried to scramble inside. But before he could, Gurabura sent out another beam of blue light- and this time Hawk, pinned to the side of his plane, couldn't escape.

He braced himself for the searing pain he had felt before, probably compounded a hundred times from the wider beam. And yet, he felt no pain at all as the beam enveloped him, only a sensation of weightlessness. Hawk understood where the feeling came from when he looked down to see the ground dropping away from beneath his feet.

_Oh hell, I'm being abducted!_ he thought as he scrambled in the air and grabbed for his plane. His hands couldn't find purchase on the slick surface, though, and he was reduced to flailing wildly as he was taken higher.

"Put me down!" he screeched uselessly up at Gurabura as he heard Volk recommence his yelling from below.

"Hawk!" The Russian stunned Hawk by crouching then leaping higher into the air than Hawk ever would have believed possible. Volk actually landed on top of Hawk's Tomcat, and he reached out to grasp Hawk's hand in his.

"Volk, help-!" Hawk pleaded. The tractor beam relentlessly pulled him higher, despite Volk's grip. The Russian brought up his other hand to clutch Hawk's arm, but the boy could feel his sweaty skin slipping through Volk's grasp.

"I'll come after you, my little one!" Volk growled, looking up at Hawk as the boy's arm began to ache, basically a rope in the tug of war between Gurubura and Volk. If Volk had been lighter, he would have been lifted up right along with Hawk, but the weight of his muscular body and mechanical parts was too much for Hawk's arm to bear. Volk's hand clenched over Hawk's then the boy's fingers slid through the Russian's.

"Volk-" Hawk began, but before he could say anything else, Volk had leapt down from the Tomcat and was racing towards his chopper. As embarrassing as it was for Hawk to need his partner to rescue him a second time, he was a little less frightened knowing that Volk was coming after him.

_Wherever they take me, he'll follow them,_ Hawk thought as he tilted his head shakily to look upward at the UFO. He could see nothing but the blue beam drawing him upward, just like in the worst sci-fi B-movies. His next thought wasn't nearly as comforting, however: _What Damiano Gallucci's up there? If he'd do such a terrible thing to someone on his side, what will he do to __**me**__?_


End file.
